


Legwork

by grey853



Category: due South
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser and Ray discover new aspects of their relationship while Ben recovers from a gunshot wound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legwork

**Legwork  
** by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Legwork)

* * *

Ray paced the cubicle, Frasers blood-stained Stetson turning in his hands. He fought down the rising panic, the fear that his partner might not make it, might not live long enough for Ray to kick his crazy Mountie ass all the way back to the Yukon or the Northwest Territories or wherever the hell he came from.

The groan from the hospital bed got his attention and Ray turned to see Fraser blinking in confusion under the bright lights. "Ray?"  
  
Stepping closer, Ray leaned against the metal rail, careful not to disturb the IV or any of the wires taped to his partner's chest. "Hey, Fraser. How you feeling?"  
  
"Like I've been shot."  
  
"No kidding. What the fuck were you thinking? I told you to get your skinny ass undercover."  
  
Fraser closed his eyes, his face pale and his voice strained. "I really thought I could get him to surrender, Ray."  
  
"That's not your call, Fraser, that's my call. Forman was a head case. I knew that. I told you that. I've got history with the guy. Why the fuck don't you listen to me when I tell you this shit?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Ray." The words came out weak, barely a whisper.  
  
Ray swallowed back his anger and touched his friend's shoulder lightly in sympathy. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay. Just relax."  
  
Eyes still closed, Fraser asked, "How bad is it?"  
  
Not wanting to say it out loud, Ray didn't answer right away. Fraser looked at him and then asked again, "Ray, please, how bad is it? I need to know."  
  
Ray shook his head, the words difficult to get out. His fingers burned against the cool skin. "I don't know, Fraser. They got the bleeding stopped, but it's bad. They're trying to get this bigwig doctor to come in and fix it."  
  
Both men looked at Fraser's wounded right leg, elevated and heavily bandaged. Fraser cleared his throat. "It's strange."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I don't feel it."  
  
"What do you mean you don't feel it? You felt it when you got hit. I heard you scream like a son of a bitch."  
  
"Well, yes, then I most definitely felt it, but not now."  
  
"They must have numbed it to work on it."  
  
Ben nodded, but his eyes flickered, the fear too bright in the dark blue. "Maybe so."  
  
"But you think it's something else, like there's something else wrong?"  
  
Before Fraser could answer a doctor hurried in the room. Middle-aged and weary, the man managed a weak smile. Ray stepped aside and let the doctor stand next to the bed. 

"Constable, I'm glad to see you're awake. I'm Dr. Watson." The doctor looked over at Ray. "Perhaps you could give us a moment, Detective."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"I need to talk to the Constable alone."  
  
Fraser interjected. "I'd like him to stay. He's my partner."  
  
The doctor raised an eyebrow, his tone more harsh. "Oh, I know who he is, Constable. By this point, the whole hospital knows who Detective Vecchio is."  
  
Fraser glanced over and Ray shrugged, but couldn't meet his partner's searching eyes. "I was upset." Ray had the grace to pretend to be repentant, but it didn't sell, not to Fraser who knew him better than anybody. So what if he made a big fuss when they'd tried to kick him out. No way was he leaving Fraser alone to suffer, no fucking way. 

Running a tongue over his dry lower lip, Fraser kept his eyes on him. "I completely understand, Ray. I would have probably reacted the same way had our positions been reversed." Fraser didn't wait for an answer, but turned his attention back to Dr. Watson. "What is it you wish to discuss?"  
  
"We need to do surgery on your leg."  
  
Ray didn't like the sound of that, not one bit. "Surgery?"  
  
"Ray, please. Let the doctor explain."  
  
"Sure, sure. Didn't mean to butt in."  
  
"You're not butting in. I just need to hear this."  
  
"Right, right, I'll shut up now." Ray crossed his arms, hands tucked under his armpits, and waited, his gut gripped in iron.  
  
Dr. Watson spoke again, his voice calm and professional, but with a tough edge. "The bullet passed through the leg. The muscle involvement is minimal considering the caliber of the bullet, but we need to go in and repair the vascular damage and remove any debris to lessen the chance of infection. The bullet missed the femoral artery, but there was a lot of blood loss and the circulation to the rest of your leg has been compromised. Dr. Frank Simmons will perform the surgery. He's one of the best vascular surgeons in the country."

"And if I don't have the surgery?"  
  
"That's not really an option, Constable."  
  
"You didn't answer the question."  
  
"You would lose the leg, possibly even your life."  
  
"I see."  
  
Ray kept his mouth shut, barely able to breathe, not sure if the whole thing was real or not. Fraser's calm voice kept asking questions, like he was chatting about a bus schedule or something. "When will you do the surgery?"  
  
"Right away. I'll send in a nurse with the forms and you'll be prepped. Your partner will need to leave for that, but he can wait in the lounge."  
  
"How long will the surgery last?"  
  
"That's hard to say. It depends on how much damage he needs to repair. I'd say four to five hours minimum. Dr. Simmons is a very thorough man."  
  
"If he can't repair the damage?"  
  
"I'm confident that"  
  
"Dr. Watson, I need to know all the possible scenarios."  
  
"Then we'll take the leg during surgery. There's a team standing by in that event."  
  
Ray dropped down onto a stool, his own legs too weak to hold his weight. "What are the odds that he'll lose the leg?"  
  
Dr. Watson glanced over at Ray and then back at Fraser. "Honestly? I'd say it's fifty/fifty at this point. However, as I said, Dr. Simmons is an excellent surgeon. If I needed work, he's the one I'd call."

Fraser nodded, his face even whiter and more drained than before. "I'd like to talk to Ray alone before the nurse comes in, please."  
  
"All right, but just a minute."  
  
"Certainly."  
  
As soon as Watson left, Ray stood and stepped to the edge of the bed. Shakily, Ray took his partner's hand and squeezed it. "Fraser, it's going to be okay."  
  
"We don't know that, Ray, and, frankly, I can't go into this thinking that there's no possibility of failure. I need you to do something for me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I need you to take care of Diefenbaker and notify the Inspector."  
  
"Welsh already called Thatcher. Dief is with Turnbull for now, but I'll get him as soon as I can."  
  
"It might be some time before I can walk him again."  
  
"It's not a problem, and when you get out of here, you're coming home with me."  
  
"I couldn't impose."  
  
"You think I could handle you hobbling around in the Consulate trying to sleep on that cot you call a bed? Forget about it."  
  
Fraser's eyes closed momentarily, but then opened to gaze at Ray, the blue wetter than before. "Thank you, Ray. You're a good friend and devoted partner."  
  
Ray squeezed his hand again, leaning in closer, his own fear held at bay by the terror he saw in Fraser's eyes. "You're going to be fine, Fraser."  
  
"I hope you're right, Ray. It's difficult, that is to say, I'm not sure how I would react if"  
  
"You don't have to worry about that. Just get it through your thick Mountie skull that it's going to be cool. I promise."  
  
Fraser bit his lower lip and shook his head. "You can't promise that, Ray."  
  
"Yes, I can. I got faith. Sure, sure, that's usually your department, but you're a little low right now, so I'll pick up the slack. You're not losing that leg. Hell, I can't do this job without you, Fraser. You've got to be okay, got that?"  
  
Fraser managed a weak smile. "I'll do my best, Ray."  
  
"You'd better."  
  
Before Fraser could reply, three nurses swarmed in, one ushering Ray out and the others working on Fraser. Walking down the hall to the waiting room, Ray knew deep down that if Fraser lost his leg, it would be worse than shooting his best friend in the head. 

* * *

A Styrofoam coffee cup appeared in front of Ray's face. He raised his head to find the Lieutenant looking down with concern. "How are you holding up?"

Ray shrugged and took the coffee, his right side achy and protesting the movement. "I'm fine. I'm not the one who took a bullet."  
  
"No, but you're the one who killed a guy and has a partner under the knife."

"I wish it were me in there instead of Fraser."  
  
Welsh frowned and shook his head. "That kind of talk doesn't do anybody any good. You think Fraser would talk crazy like that, think you should be the one having surgery instead of him?"  
  
"No, he'd probably prefer it just the way it is. He's like that."  
  
Sighing, Welsh settled into the tan plastic chair beside him. "It wasn't your fault."  
  
Coming up out of the chair, Ray exploded as he threw the untouched coffee into the trash. "I had the gun. I could've taken Forman out before he shot Fraser. I mean, I knew the crazy son of a bitch would shoot. He was nuts, talking about aliens and ray guns and shit, but I held off, hesitated. I wanted to take him in without it going that far. If I'd done it right, Fraser wouldn't be in this mess, wouldn't be on the verge of ending up a cripple."

Ray leaned back against the wall, his arms wrapped around his chest, air hard to come by. The world took a spin, but he stayed on his feet. "I should've taken my shot when I first had it. This didn't have to happen."  
  
"It was a tough call. From the witness statements it's clear that Fraser ignored your warnings to take cover. You did what you could do."

"It wasn't enough."  
  
"Sometimes it's not."  
  
Neither man spoke for several moments, but then Welsh stood and stepped closer. "You look like shit, Ray. Go wash up. I've got Huey bringing you some fresh clothes. The Vecchio clan should be here any minute and if I don't miss my guess Thatcher will probably show up before long, too. They don't need to see you like this."  
  
"Like what? Like I'm guilty?"  
  
"Like you're a mess. Look at yourself."  
  
Ray glanced down and choked. Fraser's dried blood covered his shirt and his jeans. "Fuck. No wonder people keep looking at me funny."  
  
A hand settled on his shoulder. "Get cleaned up. I have to get back and finish the report, not to mention keep the shooting team at bay until you're ready to talk about this. Call me as soon as you hear something."  
  
"Sure." Ray swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. "Thanks, sir."

"Fraser's tough. He'll be fine no matter how this thing comes out."  
  
"Yeah? You think? Would you be okay if you lost a leg and couldn't do what you love anymore?"  
  
"I sit at a desk most of the time."  
  
"But Fraser doesnt. It'd kill him. You know it and I know it. Might as well shoot him in the head and be done with it."  
  
Welsh didnt speak again, just nodded in understanding and walked out. Ray picked up Fraser's hat and headed to the can. Messed up or not, he had to get his shit together. He had to be strong, to make it look okay even if it was fucked up beyond reason.  
  
Inside the restroom, he grabbed some paper towels and ran some water. He looked in the mirror and stilled. Shit. He had blood in his hair, on his cheek, down the side of his neck. He worked to clean up as best he could short of a shower. With a new towel, he cleaned off the brim of Fraser's hat, figuring he'd get it dry cleaned later. He washed his hands with soap three times and then a fourth time for good measure.  
  
Leaning forward, his elbows on the cold sink, he ran the water. He used both hands to wash away his tears and then patted his face dry. Jack Huey came in behind him carrying a bag. "Hey, Ray."  
  
"Jack."  
  
The other detective put the paper sack on the sink. "The Lieutenant sent these over. Thought you'd be less likely to get checked in as a patient if you didn't look like such a wreck."  
  
Ray didn't bother to look up or banter. Instead, he opened the bag and pulled out a fresh sweatshirt. As he stripped off his old one in silence, Huey frowned. "Ray?"  
  
"Yeah?"

"You sure all that blood's Fraser's?"  
  
"What kind of stupid question is that?"  
  
Huey stepped closer, lifted the edge of Ray's shirt and pointed at the nasty gash along his side. "Looks like a bullet wound to me."  
  
Ray looked down at the oozing line across his lower right chest and frowned, shaking his head in amazement. "Fuck."  
  
"You should see somebody. Get it checked out."  
  
Ray shook his head again, suddenly dizzy. "I'm fine. It's just a graze."  
  
"It looks like it needs stitches. At the very least it needs to be cleaned and bandaged. Plus, you have to report it."  
  
"I don't have time."  
  
"Sure you do. Fraser won't be out of surgery for hours, right?" Leaning against the counter, Ray touched his head, the world a little darker around the edges. A hand caught his arm as he slipped down to the floor. "Oh, shit. Ray? Ray?"  
  
Closing his eyes, Ray shook his head again even harder this time, but couldn't clear it. "Give me a minute."  
  
"I'm getting a doctor or a nurse or somebody."  
  
"Don't. Just get me a towel."  
  
"Forget about it. I'm not having Welsh chew my ass out over this. Besides, you need a doctor."  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"You idiot, you've been shot."  
  
Ray didn't bother to argue anymore, just kept his eyes shut, pulling his legs up and resting his head on his knees. As Huey left to get help, he took a deep breath and thought only about how none of it mattered if Fraser didn't make it through okay.

* * *

"It's nice to see you, Son, though I would've preferred to come to you."  
  
Fraser whipped around, surprised at his father's voice and the arctic surroundings. "Dad?"  
  
"Were you expecting someone else?"  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"The Borderlands, Son. You've been here before. Remember?"  
  
"Yes, but, it didn't look like this before."  
  
"Oh, it changes."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"It can be disorienting at first, but one gets used to it."  
  
Fraser checked out the edge of the woodland and then stepped closer to sit on the stump where his father warmed himself by a fire. The heat didn't faze him, didn't make it to Fraser's skin. Instead, cold still seeped through his veins. He took off his gloves and held his hands closer to the fire, but it didn't help. "Nothing's real here."  
  
"Everything's real here, or as real as real gets. What's in one's head is as valid as what's outside it."  
  
Irritated at his father's exasperating riddles, Fraser snapped, "Why am I here?"  
  
His father's affable smile faded. "You were shot, Son."

"I know that, but that doesn't answer the question."  
  
"Doesn't it? Use your head, Son. Why do you think you're here?"  
  
"Am I dying?"  
  
"That's for you to decide. Frankly, I've never thought of you as a quitter. You've always had a tenacious streak. You're like your mother that way."  
  
Fraser stood, anger welling up inside. "You're saying it's for me to decide whether I live or die, that circumstance has little to do with it?"  
  
"I'm saying you have an opportunity to choose. It's a gift, Son. Not all of us have that chance. A bullet to the leg isn't quite the same as to the heart. I had no second chances."  
  
Reaching down, Fraser touched the top of his right leg, sound and solid, holding his weight. "I don't know if I can do it, Dad. Being a Mountie is all I ever wanted to do."  
  
"You can still serve."  
  
"From behind a desk? Would you have been satisfied with such service?"  
  
Fraser Senior didn't answer, just stood up and stepped closer. "You're putting the dogs in the barn before the race is finished. You haven't lost the leg."  
  
Fraser shuddered, not at the cold, but at the icy fear running through him. "But if I do"  
  
"Then you'll deal with it like a Fraser. Besides, you aren't alone. You have your partner."  
  
Fraser flicked his tongue out and across his lower lip, seeing Ray's beautiful face in his mind, and sighed. "Ray."  
  
"You should've listened to the Yank. You handled the situation badly, but what's done is done. You have to go back and make things right between you."  
  
Puzzled, Fraser studied his father. "What? I don't understand."  
  
"He killed a man to save your life. It was in the line of duty, but the Yank takes too much to heart. I don't think he'd fair well if he lost you, too."  
  
"You're worried about Ray?"  
  
"He is your partner, Son, and I must admit to a growing admiration for anyone who is mulish enough to put up with you."  
  
"Are you saying I'm difficult?"  
  
"And arrogant, inflexible, and, at the best of times, self-righteous. Despite all that, the Yank seems to stand his ground well enough. I like him. There's no point in making the situation worse by leaving him alone."  
  
Fraser turned away, squinting into the bright light reflected off the snow. "From the sound of it, he'd be better off without me."  
  
"Never think that, Son. He needs you, just like you need him. You're partners. You make a fine team. I can't explain it better than that."  
  
"You haven't explained anything." Fraser stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his wool overcoat, frustrated as usual. Cold crept past his skin into his bones and he shivered. He saw rather than felt his father's hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I've done the best I can, Benton. The rest is up to you. Go or stay. It's your decision."  
  
"If I stay?"  
  
"We might spend eternity having these little father and son chats. Wouldnt that be fun?"  
  
"Dear God"

"Or we might not see one another again. Like I told you before, we all make our own paths. They don't even give us a guidebook. It's hardly fair, but there you are, the afterlife in a nutshell."  
  
Swallowing back his own fear, his own dread, Fraser shook his head. "I don't think I'm quite ready for that, Dad."  
  
"Glad to hear it, Son."  
  
Fraser's eyes closed and he fell back, the snow like an icy cushion, a frozen pillow for his head.

* * *

Ray held his right arm tucked in close to his body to keep the constant, dull ache to a minimum. The twenty-two stitches covered with a fresh bandage pulled with every movement, so he tried to stay still. Sitting in the dim light of Fraser's room, he stared at a cheap painting on the wall, some pastel abstract probably bought by the ton and decorating thousands of hospital rooms all over the country. It made him queasy just to look at it, the swirl of pinks and greens sort of like a bowl of soggy fruit loops gone to shit. 

"Ray?"  
  
The croaked word got his attention and he hurried to stand next to Fraser's bed. "Hey, you finally awake for good this time?"  
  
"This time?"  
  
"You've been in and out all night."  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
Ray shrugged, glad to finally see his friend's eyes focus even if they were still a little glazed over. "It's okay. Not much to remember. Nurses came in off and on all night to check you out, but you weren't really tracking. Kept talking about your dad being a buttinsky."

"Buttinsky?"

"Yeah, you know, a nosy old coot. Guess those drugs they gave you whacked you out pretty good, huh?"  
  
Fraser didn't answer right away, just stared at Ray. Then he swallowed hard and turned his attention to his leg propped up on a pillow, the bandages thick, and a drainage tube running out the side. He smiled weakly, the relief etched in his face. "It's still there."  
  
"Still there, buddy, still there. Told you you'd be fine, right?"  
  
"So you did." Closing his eyes again, Fraser whispered, "I was afraid, Ray."  
  
Ray ignored the confession, chalking it up to drugs, knowing Fraser would never admit that out loud even to him if he were in his right mind. "The doc says you have to stay here a few days, but that you should be up and walking in a couple of weeks."  
  
Opening his eyes, Fraser studied Ray more carefully and frowned. "You look terrible. Have you been here all night?"  
  
"Yeah, mostly. I had a lot of company for a while, the Vecchios, Thatcher, the guys from the station. I sent them home after you came through okay and they booked you a room. I've been here since they brought you out of recovery."  
  
"You should go home and rest. I'll be fine here."  
  
"Forget about it." Ray held up a hand and shook his head to stall any protest. "Listen, I made arrangements for Turnbull to bring Dief over for a visit later, but the gals out front are pretty pig-headed about letting him up here."

"I understand, Ray. It's against hospital regulations."  
  
"Don't worry about it. We'll figure out something."  
  
"You don't have to break the rules on my account, Ray."  
  
Ray grinned and looked over his shoulder before leaning in with a whisper. "What they don't know, can't hurt us, Frase. Besides, Dief is probably cleaner than half the people in here."

"That might well be, but I wouldn't want you to get into trouble."

"Me, in trouble? Forget about it. They love me around here."  
  
Fraser's short laugh caught them both off guard. He grabbed his stomach and then chuckled again. "Thank you."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For being here."  
  
"No place I'd rather be, well, except maybe home watching a good hockey game."  
  
Smile fading, Fraser studied him, his eyes much more clear than before. "I don't remember much about what happened after the first shot. Did you arrest Forman?"  
  
Ray frowned, his own pain at the memory creeping into his expression. "Afraid not. I had to shoot him."  
  
"Is he in the hospital, too?"  
  
"When I say shoot him, Fraser, I mean kill him."  
  
The memory of his father's comments about Ray killing a man in the line of duty hit him full force. "Ray, I'm so sorry."  
  
"Not your fault."  
  
"It's entirely my fault. I should've listened. You might have been able to subdue him without my interference."  
  
Biting his lower lip, his head pounding like a Polish drummer on speed, Ray shook his head. "You're not to blame, Fraser, not completely. Sure, you fucked up, but so did the system. Forman needed his meds every day, not access to a fucking gun. Hell, he should've been in a hospital, but there's no money to keep guys like him inside safe from us and us safe from him. So he goes walking around living with this nightmare in his head, paranoid as shit, thinking aliens are out to get his ass. We just happened to be the ones who took the fallout."  
  
"Still, he might have listened to you if I hadn't frightened him."  
  
"Maybe, maybe not. It doesn't matter now. It's over."  
  
"It's hardly over, Ray. You killed a man."  
  
Ray turned away, walked to the window, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. He watched the people outside in the parking lot coming and going even at six in the morning. People died and the world went right on like nothing had happened, like Forman's death meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. The hard reality of that thought made his heart hurt. He didn't turn around, but spoke quietly. "I've killed people before, Fraser. This isn't the first time. I have to admit it doesn't get any easier even when you know you had no choice."  
  
"You couldn't be the man you are if it did, Ray."  
  
Neither man spoke for several long moments. Then Ray turned and moved to sit beside the bed, his head still full of little spiky pains. He scrubbed his face with both hands, his stubble burning his palms. Finally, he leaned back and stared at Fraser. "You're going to be okay. That's all that matters."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"What about me?"  
  
"Will you be okay?"  
  
"Sure, I'll be fine. I can deal with this."  
  
"Ray, you know his family, his mother and his sister. You told me about how they depended on you to take care of Charles when he got violent. This wasn't a stranger."  
  
Throat tight and his gut knotted, Ray kept his face neutral. "It couldn't be helped. I did what I had to. Let's drop it."  
  
"Certainly." Fraser shifted in the bed, grunting and falling back in pain. Ray got up and stepped closer. "You need something?"  
  
"Water."  
  
"Sure, sure, water." Ray used the button to raise the head of the bed first, and then poured some ice water in a plastic tumbler. He added a straw and then held it up to Fraser's mouth. "Easy now so you don't choke."  
  
Fraser didn't argue and took several sips, rested, and then sipped some more until half the water disappeared. He fell back against the pillow, exhausted. "Thank you."  
  
"No problem. You should get some more sleep. You look wiped out."  
  
Eyelids flickered. "I do feel rather tired."  
  
"Getting shot will do that."  
  
Ray waited as Fraser's breathing slowed, his body more relaxed. Watching his partner sleep made his own pain less noticeable, less important. Gripping the rails, Ray closed his eyes and prayed he had the nerve to use the second chance God gave him to tell Fraser the truth about why he really killed Charles Forman.

* * *

By mid afternoon Fraser's room looked like a well-stocked florist's shop. Smiley-faced balloons, overdone flower arrangements, and houseplants in baskets covered almost every surface. To Fraser's dismay, Turnbull even sent a Mountie doll with a stuffed wolf for good measure. Having a private room gave them more space, but Ray figured pretty soon, they might have to rent another wing just to have somewhere to put everything. 

Instead of being cheered up, the gifts seemed to make Fraser more quiet, more withdrawn than before. Sure, he put on a good face when Thatcher and Frannie came by, but when they left, he pretended to sleep or just stared out the window. 

Ray stepped in between the view and Fraser. "Okay, tell me what you're thinking."  
  
"About what, Ray?"  
  
"About whatever's going on inside that freakish head of yours."  
  
"There's nothing to tell."  
  
"Fraser, this is me here."  
  
Fraser shifted a little in the bed, obviously uncomfortable. He took a deep breath before he spoke quietly. "Perhaps the drugs have muddled my thoughts more than I first realized."  
  
"That's bullshit."  
  
Fraser flinched, but didn't meet Ray's determined gaze. "You need to go home, Ray. You're tired, I'm tired. I don't want to argue."  
  
Ray stepped closer, both hands gripping the metal rail. "Bring it on, Fraser. I can take whatever you dish out. What's bugging you?"

"Bugging me?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, bothering you, making you all twitchy. You've been acting weird ever since Frannie left."

It took several long seconds before Fraser mustered his words, Ray watching his friend struggle to find just the right thing to say. When Fraser did finally speak, it wasn't at all what Ray expected. "Why didn't you tell me you'd been shot?"  
  
Ray stood up straighter, suddenly angry. "Damn it. Frannie's got a big mouth. I should never have gone to the can when she was here."  
  
"Francesca thought I already knew. So, I ask again, why didn't you tell me you'd been shot?"  
  
"There was nothing to tell. It was just a flesh wound."  
  
"That's not the point, Ray. You were still shot."  
  
"You had your own set of worries."  
  
"And you didn't think as your partner I deserved to know?"  
  
"It's not about deserving or not deserving, Fraser. You needed to focus on getting well, not on me. You didn't need to know, so I didn't tell you." Fraser's jaw clenched and Ray recognized the flash of anger in those blue eyes. It hurt worse than the bullet to have Fraser pissed off at him. "Look, I'm sorry. I should've told you, but I didn't. To be honest, I didn't even know I'd been hit until after they took you to surgery and I was cleaning up."

Fraser's expression softened with concern. "Let me see."  
  
"See what?"  
  
"See where you were hit."  
  
"Fraser"

"Ray, I want to see."  
  
Protest died and reluctantly Ray lifted his sweatshirt. The bandage covered a three by ten inch section of the lower right side of his chest.  
  
"Closer."  
  
Ray didn't question the request, but stepped nearer the bed, right next to the rail. Fraser slipped his hand through the space and ran his fingers along the edge of the bandage. "You should've told me."  
  
Heart racing, Ray swallowed hard and stepped back from the contact. He pulled his shirt down and then leaned back against the rail. "Yeah, I know. I just didn't want you to worry about me on top of everything else, what with the leg and everything."  
  
Fraser nodded, but didn't speak right away. After a few moments, he turned his head and stared at Ray again, his face and voice more relaxed, but his eyes still blazing. "Understood."  
  
Relieved, Ray shifted uneasily under the scrutiny of Fraser's intense gaze. "So, you hungry? You didn't eat breakfast and not even a gnat could live on that lunch you had."  
  
"Im not hungry, but juice wouldn't go amiss."  
  
"Juice? What kind would you like?"  
  
"What are my choices?"  
  
Ray shrugged. "I don't know, but I figure it's a sure bet there's orange or apple. That's what these places usually have. I can ask if they've got anything else."  
  
"No, that's fine. Apple will do nicely."  
  
"Apple it is." Ray stepped to the door and thumbed in the direction of the nurse's station. "I'll be right back. You want anything else?"  
  
"No, Ray, the juice will be sufficient."  
  
Once out the door, Ray took a minute to lean back against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut. His side burned from Fraser's gentle touch, from that simple connection. It didn't mean anything, or at least not what Ray wanted it to mean, that Fraser cared about him more than he would any other partner, more than Vecchio. Fraser had no idea what his hand could do, what power he had over Ray's heart.

Opening his eyes, pushing the ache away, Ray steadied himself against the wall. Then he went on a mission to find enough apple juice to make his partner happy.

* * *

Dief, the smug bastard, had to be the smartest damn wolf on the whole planet. Ray grinned in amusement as he distracted the nurses long enough for the animal to sneak easily inside Fraser's room. As soon as Ray knew for sure the coast was clear, he left Nurse Thelma on her own and headed back to see his partner. 

Standing by the door, arms crossed, Ray smiled at the reunion. Dief did his best to lick Fraser back to health and Fraser obviously loved every minute of it. Hands buried in the thick fur, Fraser really smiled for the first time since the whole mess started. Ray cleared his throat. "You guys done yet?"  
  
"You know wolves, Ray. They often need more than verbal reassurance."  
  
"Yeah, I get that." Moving closer, Ray settled into the chair beside the bed thinking what a lucky bastard the wolf was. Diefenbaker turned from Fraser and padded over to Ray, placed his paw on his thigh, and whined. Ray frowned and then petted him reassuringly. "Hey, it's okay, buddy. Fraser's fine, I'm fine. We're all good here."  
  
"I think he's just concerned, Ray. You do look rather worse for wear."  
  
"I'm not the one in the bed, Fraser."  
  
"No, but maybe you should be."  
  
"I'm fine." Ray took a deep breath and changed the subject. "Turnbull should be up in a minute. He's in the gift shop."  
  
"Dear Lord, not another stuffed Mountie doll."

Ray chuckled and reached over to the side table, picking up the toy Mountie, walking it along beside the little wolf plushie. "Come on. You have to admit it's cute, kind of like a little stuffed Fraser."  
  
"It's undignified."  
  
"Undignified? How's that?"

"I'm a grown man, Ray. Stuffed toys are for children."  
  
Ray shrugged and put the doll down right next to the toy wolf. Guess he wouldn't mention the stuffed turtle at the back of his closet. "It was a nice thought, though. Besides, we can donate them to the children's ward when you check out."  
  
Fraser nodded in ready agreement. "Yes, we can do that. Excellent idea, Ray."  
  
Dief settled at his feet, Ray leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He scrubbed his face with both hands, the whisker burn reminding him he needed a shave before he went to the station. "Look, Fraser, before he gets here, I have to tell you something."  
  
"Something other than the fact that you got shot?"  
  
Ray ignored the pissy tone and reminder of his earlier negligence. "It's nothing big, but while Turnbull's here, I have to take off for a little while."  
  
Fraser pushed the button and sat up higher. "Are you going home to rest?"  
  
"No, I've got to go deal with the shooting team."  
  
"Ah, Internal Affairs. Understood." Fraser's voice softened. "I'm sure you'll be cleared, Ray. There's nothing to worry about."  
  
"I know that, I know that. The shooting team's a cakewalk."  
  
"A cakewalk?"  
  
"You know, easy, a done deal." Ray lifted his face and met his partner's concerned gaze. "It's just that I need to talk to Mrs. Forman and Charise, explain what went down. Welsh said they called and wanted to see me. He suggested I talk to a lawyer first."  
  
"Lawyer? Why? Is he expecting the Forman family to file some legal action?"  
  
"They might. They might go the wrongful death route."  
  
"Ray, that's ludicrous. You had no option. There was eminent danger. You shot not only in self defense but to protect me as well."  
  
Ray sank back in the chair, bone weary. "Yeah, you and I know that, but Welsh kind of suggested that they might put a spin on the mental health angle, that because I knew Charles was looney tunes, that I should've handled it different or something. I don't know. It might all blow over after things settle down. They're just upset. They trusted me and I blew it. Charles is dead and they want someone to be responsible, to pay for that. Can't say I wouldn't feel the same way."  
  
"I bear some of that responsibility as well, Ray."

"Don't start that again, Fraser. I'm the one on the spot, not you. Forget about it."  
  
"How can I do that, Ray, when I know what happened? We might not even be here if I'd listened to you and let you handle the situation like you wanted."  
  
"Might have, might not. Nobody can say shit like that." Suddenly angry, Ray got up and stepped to the bed. "Listen to me and listen good. Under no circumstances are you to say that stuff to anybody but me, got that?"  
  
"But, Ray"  
  
More adamant, Ray leaned in closer. "I don't want to have to worry about you doing your pity party in front of a witness and having you end up being sued, too. Is that clear?"

"Very clear."  
  
"Good, because I don't need that shit on top of everything else."  
  
"Understood." Fraser winced as he shifted, his hand resting on his bandaged leg.

Ray shook his head. "Leg hurt?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You doing those foot flexes like the doctor said?"  
  
Fraser sighed in frustration and nodded. "They don't seem to do much good."  
  
"It's too early to tell yet. You've got to be patient with stuff like this. You've been stabbed and shot before. You know about that."  
  
"I do, but it's difficult."  
  
"Yeah, I know. You'd rather be up walking and traipsing all over the city, but for now, you'll be good and rest. I don't have to worry about you trying to outwit Turnbull and sneaking off somewhere while I'm at the station, right?"  
  
Fraser tilted his head and looked at Ray like he'd lost what little sense he had left. "Ray, do you really think I'm that self-destructive?"  
  
"No, but you get delusional sometimes."  
  
"Delusional?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, think you've got a cape or something, think you're some kind of super hero. Newsflash, you're not. You're just a guy who got shot. You're grounded, Batman, so take it easy and don't get any bright ideas to go flying off somewhere while I'm not here to watch your back."  
  
Instead of arguing, Fraser's lips thinned into a smile. "If I'm Batman, does that make you Robin, my teenaged sidekick?"  
  
Ray's rant stalled and he stared in amazement. "You telling me you get that? You know about Batman and Robin?"  
  
"I'm not completely ignorant of modern cultural references, Ray. As it happens, the last time I was in the hospital there was a BATMAN marathon on television. It posed a number of questions in my mind as to the exact nature of the relationship between the two men."  
  
"You're a freak, you know that?"

"So you've said."  
  
"And I'm saying it again." Ray smiled, but didn't take it further. No way was he touching that whole Batman and Robin relationship line, no way in hell. He had his own theories and he wasn't about to lay it out for Fraser to analyze and tell him all about projection and perceptions based on personal filters. He'd had enough of that shit with Stella when he'd mentioned his suspicions to her one Saturday morning when things were first going wrong between them. "You're a freak of the first order, Fraser."

"Perhaps."  
  
"No perhaps about it. You see things that aren't there."  
  
"I believe it's referred to as subtext, which, of course, is open to personal interpretation."  
  
"Fraser, drop it. Just get the point that neither one of us is bulletproof. We get hit, we pay the piper. In this case, that means you stay put and do what the doctor says and right now that means taking it easy."

Before Fraser could put up a good fight, Turnbull called from the doorway. "Good afternoon, Constable, Detective. It's good to see you both."  
  
Ray turned and then laughed out loud. There stood a grown man carrying a stuffed moose bigger than Diefenbaker under his right arm. Ray ignored the soft groan from the bed and motioned to the toy. "Say, what you got there, Turnbull? You bag that fella yourself?"  
  
Stepping into the room, Turnbull took off his hat and grinned with pride. "It's an authentic artistic representation of a Canadian bull moose."  
  
"So you're saying it's what the real thing looks like if it was made out of stuffin' and fleece?"  
  
"Exactly." The man held it out to Fraser and beamed. "I thought it charming, as was the delightful young lady who sold it to me in the gift shop downstairs."  
  
Fraser wore his most polite and indulgent face. "Thank you, Constable. I appreciate the gift. If you'd be so kind as to put it over by the window, I'd be grateful."  
  
"Certainly, sir."  
  
While Turnbull placed the massive toy over by his other gifts, Ray contained his chuckle at the subtle Fraser eye roll. Clapping his hands and rubbing them together, Ray decided to take off. "Listen, Turnbull, I have to go to the station. Would you take over here?"  
  
Fraser didn't give his colleague a chance to answer. "Ray, I don't need a babysitter. If I need anything, I can call for a nurse."  
  
"I know that, Fraser, but I'm just thinking about Dief here."  
  
"Diefenbaker?"  
  
"Yeah. If he gets busted, Turnbull here will be ready to take him home. Otherwise, there's no telling what might happen. They might even call the dog catcher or something."  
  
"That's highly unlikely, Ray."  
  
"But, sir, Detective Vecchio has a point. It wouldn't be prudent to leave you alone and risk Diefenbaker's safety."  
  
Ray pointed at Turnbull and nodded. "See, that's what I'm saying."  
  
Diefenbaker yipped his vote from the side of the bed. Fraser sagged back into the pillow and closed his eyes. "Very well played, Ray. It would appear that I'm outnumbered."  
  
Ray didn't gloat, but instead patted his friend on the shoulder. "I should be done in a few hours. Call if you need me."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure we'll be fine, Detective." Turnbull leaned in and whispered to both men. "I managed to procure us a video tape player so that Constable Fraser and I might watch the Ottawa bonspiel. I taped it last night for this very occasion."  
  
Ray shook his head in amazement. "You taped curling?"  
  
"Indeed, I did."

"Might as well tape housekeeping."  
  
Turnbull took the tease without blinking and turned his attention to Fraser. "Should I set it up, sir?"  
  
Fraser nodded, suddenly more alert. "Thank you, Turnbull. Please do."  
  
As soon as Turnbull left to retrieve the player, Fraser focused on Ray. "Good luck with Internal Affairs, Ray."  
  
"And good luck with your brooms. Jeez, I can't believe he recorded curling."  
  
"He means well."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Ray's voice softened. "You need anything?"

"I suppose it would be highly inappropriate to ask you to take Turnbull with you?"  
  
Ray didn't bother to answer as Turnbull swept back in the room, carrying the VCR, and talking a blue streak. Shaking his head, almost feeling guilty, Ray took off to deal with his own business. He dreaded talking about what happened, so much so, he almost envied Fraser watching curling, almost.

* * *

Sitting at his desk, Lt. Welsh flipped through the last page of the report and nodded with satisfaction. "No surprises here. You're cleared."  
  
Ray sagged back into the chair, his earlier anxiety gone, replaced with just a heavy fatigue that made even his teeth ache. "Yeah."  
  
"You doing okay?"  
  
"I'm fine."

"Oh, I can see how fine you are from here."  
  
"I'm just tired."  
  
"You slept any since this thing started?"  
  
"Off and on."  
  
"More off than on, I'd say."  
  
"You know hospitals, sir. You can't sleep in those places unless they load you with drugs. At least Fraser's getting some shuteye."  
  
"Is he doing okay?"  
  
Glancing up, Ray shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. He's a lot better than I expected. Fingers crossed, if there's no infection, he might go home tomorrow." Ray swallowed hard before he added, "Look, I'm thinking I need some time off, a few weeks at least, until he's back on his feet and he can get around on his own."  
  
"You taking him back to your place?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Welsh paused and then smiled in approval. "Good."  
  
"I mean, I couldn't let him go back to that closet he calls an office to recover, right? I've got plenty of room. I can sack out on the couch and he can take my bed."

"I said it's good, Detective, not a problem."  
  
"Oh. Okay."  
  
"What? You expected an argument?"

Ray rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, still a little punchy from the rapid-fire questions from the earlier meeting with Internal Affairs, not to mention the slap in the face from Mrs. Forman. "I just didn't want you to think I was taking off for no reason."  
  
"You were shot and you've got plenty of days. How you take them is nobody's business. Besides, Fraser's going to need help for a while. I just don't want to have to worry about you two killing each other when he gets better."  
  
Ray snorted. "Yeah. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but I think I can manage."  
  
"I was thinking more along the lines of him braining you with his crutch after your fresh mouth gets wound up."

"Nah, Fraser's used to that."  
  
"Yeah, but he's usually free to take a break, to get some fresh air. Being cooped up might be hard on him. You might want to take that into consideration before you run your mouth. Just put yourself in his place. It won't be easy for the guy. I've known him for a while now and he doesn't take restrictions well. Gets downright testy."  
  
"I've seen Fraser pissy, sir. Don't worry."  
  
"You've never seen him like he gets when he's wounded." Welsh leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, his hands fisted together. "I remember when he had to bring in Gerrard and Fraser got shot for his troubles. He about drove Ray crazy."  
  
"How's that? I know the case, the guy who shot his dad, right? I read the file, but it didn't say anything about that."  
  
"Well, it wouldn't, but I'm here to tell you, Ray Vecchio about killed the Canadian. For three weeks after being released from the hospital, Fraser seemed to go out of his way to prove that he could still do anything anyone else could do despite being on crutches. It got to be kind of like a contest of wills. I don't know who was more stubborn, Vecchio or Fraser. It was damn close."  
  
"But Fraser finally won, right? He got better and things settled down."  
  
"Yeah, eventually, but I'm just trying to warn you about what you're up against. The Mountie has some strange notion that being wounded is like a personal challenge to push himself beyond reason."

"Because he's a nut."  
  
Welsh grinned at Ray's exasperated tone. "He's not your standard issue, I'll grant you that. And you're just the guy to handle him."  
  
"You bet." Ray stood up, swayed a little and sat right back down, his hand to his head. "Whoa."  
  
Welsh got up and came around the desk in a hurry, his hand on Ray's shoulder. "You okay?"  
  
"Just a little dizzy."  
  
"When was the last time you ate?"  
  
"Couldn't tell ya."  
  
"I swear, you're worse than Fraser. You both need keepers." Welsh stepped to his door and opened it, calling out to Francesca. "Ms. Vecchio, would you be so kind as to get your brother here some coffee and a sandwich?"  
  
Frannie came to the door, chewing her gum with sass and attitude. "What? His legs broken?" Then she caught sight of Ray and she stopped. "Damn it, Ray, you look terrible."  
  
Eyes shut, Ray shrugged. "It's been a rough couple of days. I've been busy."  
  
"Yeah, sure. You want roast beef or peanut butter?"  
  
"Roast beef."  
  
"Sure thing, bro. Be back in a minute."  
  
As soon as she left, Welsh shut the door. "You won't do Fraser much good if you make yourself sick."  
  
"I know." After a few moments of quiet, Ray opened his eyes to find his boss still staring at him, his dark eyes way too intense. "What? It's just low blood sugar. I'll be good as new as soon as I eat."

"I know that, physically anyway."  
  
"What's that mean?"  
  
"We haven't talked about your mandatory sessions at Psych Services. It's standard procedure after a shooting to see somebody before you return to active duty. I can arrange those now and you can get them over with before you get back from taking care of Fraser. Or you can wait and come back to a desk and see somebody then."  
  
"I'd rather have all my teeth yanked out and my fingernails ripped off."  
  
"That goes without saying. Now which is it?"  
  
Before Ray answered, Frannie knocked on the door, opening it and stepping in. She handed Ray the sandwich and a cup of hot coffee. Ray took them with a weak grin. "Thanks, Frannie. Appreciate it."  
  
"No problem." She stood there, arms crossed, and waited as she tapped her foot.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Eat, drink. You look like a ghost."  
  
Ray didn't argue, just took a bite, practically swallowed it whole, and then washed it down with the coffee. He smiled and lifted the cup. "Thanks. I'm good."  
  
"I used M&Ms like you like."  
  
"Yeah, I can taste 'em. Just right. Thanks."  
  
Lt. Welsh cleared his throat. "Thank you, Ms. Vecchio. The phones won't answer themselves."  
  
Frowning, she turned and pointed a finger at Welsh. "Make sure he eats it all, every crumb. He's too skinny."  
  
"I'll do that."  
  
As soon as she was gone, Ray shook his head in amusement. "She's more and more like Ma Vecchio every day."  
  
"There are worse things."  
  
"Yeah." Ray finished the first half of the sandwich, the bread and meat turning to stone in his belly. He sipped his coffee and avoided Welsh's scrutiny.

"You didn't answer my question. You want those meetings now or later?"  
  
"Later."  
  
"You'll ride a desk until you're cleared for field duty by the shrink, you know that."  
  
"I know. I'm just not up to dealing with some head jockey and taking care of Fraser at the same time, okay?"  
  
"Okay. Just don't think you're getting out of it."  
  
"Never crossed my mind, sir."  
  
"Right."  
  
Welsh's disbelief didn't surprise him. Ray tossed the rest of the sandwich in the trash and finished off his coffee. "I need to head back to the hospital. Fraser's been holed up with Turnbull watching curling while I've been gone."  
  
"Curling? Isn't that like housework on ice?"  
  
"Something like that, yeah."  
  
As Ray touched the doorknob, Welsh's voice stopped him. "Kowalski?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Mrs. Forman, what happened, what she said, well, she's wrong."  
  
Ray didn't turn around. "I killed her son, sir. As far as she's concerned, I'm a murderer."  
  
"You did what you had to do to protect yourself and your partner, not to mention any of the other people standing around while he was waving the gun. She's just upset and needs somebody to blame, that's all."  
  
Sighing deeply, Ray nodded, turning slightly toward Welsh. "Yeah, and she's got somebody, me."  
  
"Ray"

"Look, sir, I know what I did and, under the same circumstances, I'd do it again. I'm not saying any different. But that doesn't make it any easier, not for Mrs. Forman, for her daughter, or for me."

"She doesn't have a leg to stand on for a court case, you know that."  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
"Just get some rest. Take care of yourself and Fraser. Call me and let me know how much time you'll need and when to set up the sessions with the counselor."  
  
"Sure. Okay."  
  
As he walked out the door, Ray kept his head down, his eyes to himself. He didn't want to talk to the other detectives and all the other people who moved out of his way in a hurry. He knew what they saw when they glanced in his direction, a cop who used deadly force, a man who took a life when he'd sworn to protect others. Nobody liked to think about how doing the job sometimes translated to killing, to shooting the crazy sons of bitches he was supposed to protect. 

* * *

Ray walked into the room and saw Fraser sleeping, his head turned to the side on the pillow, his mouth slightly open. Turnbull sat in the chair beside the bed reading a paper while Dief looked up at him from where he lay curled on the floor. Keeping his voice to a whisper, Ray closed the door behind him. "How's he doing?"

Turnbull stood up and spoke quietly. "He needed extra pain medication about half an hour ago after they took some blood." Turnbull leaned in before he added, "I'm afraid he has a fever. They gave him some additional antibiotics as well."  
  
Ray frowned at the unwelcome news and swallowed hard. "They told us to expect that. I was just hoping we could skip it."  
  
"I'm sure it will be fine, Ray. He's young and quite vital. Infections are common with such serious bullet wounds."  
  
"I know." Stepping closer to the bed, Ray studied his resting partner. Ray steadied himself against the rail. "You guys finish with the curling?"  
  
Turnbull stood beside him, his voice even more hushed. "We only watched the first half. I'm afraid Constable Fraser wasn't up for watching the complete tape."  
  
"He can finish it later then."  
  
"Certainly." Turnbull hesitated and then asked, "I don't mean to pry, but how did your meeting go with Internal Affairs?"  
  
"Fine. No problem."  
  
"That's excellent, Ray. I'm glad."  
  
Ray didn't want to talk about it, worked hard to put it out of his mind, so he avoided meeting Turnbull's eyes. Instead he focused on Fraser. "Leave the tape and I'll see if he wants to watch it when he wakes up."  
  
"The tape is on the side table." Turnbull picked up his hat and motioned to the wolf. "I should be heading back to the Consulate. I'll let the Inspector know about the recent developments in Constable Fraser's health. She might want to visit later tonight."  
  
"We'll be here."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can get you before I leave? Perhaps you'd like some hot tea or something to eat?"  
  
Ray shook his head, still not meeting those eager puppy dog eyes. "I'm cool, Turnbull. Thanks for staying."  
  
"It's my pleasure, Ray. Anything I can do to help, just ask. I'm very fond of Constable Fraser as well as yourself. I consider it an honor to be of service."  
  
Ray finally looked over at Fraser's Canadian colleague. "An honor, huh?"  
  
"Absolutely."

A groan interrupted the conversation. "Ray?"  
  
"Fraser, how you doing, buddy?"  
  
Clearing his throat, Fraser blinked several times before he focused on Ray. "I feel a bit tired and achy."  
  
"Yeah, that's the fever."  
  
"So I gathered. In addition, the medication makes me incredibly sleepy."  
  
"You're in a hospital bed, Fraser. Sleep's kind of the point."  
  
Turnbull put on his hat and piped in. "I hope you feel better soon, Constable. I'll leave you in Detective Vecchio's capable hands while I take Diefenbaker for a walk and head back to work."  
  
Fraser smiled weakly and nodded his appreciation. "Thank you, Turnbull. If you would, however, please try to resist his entreaties to buy him more doughnuts. He can be quite persuasive and he's got no shame when it comes to pastry."  
  
"Understood, sir." Turnbull tipped his hat and took off, the disgruntled wolf right behind him.

Ray turned his attention back to Fraser. "So how do you really feel? Pretty bad, huh?"  
  
"Bad enough." Fraser shifted in the bed, his face more flushed than before. "I had hoped to avoid this part of recovery."  
  
"Me, too, but you're here where they can treat it with the strong stuff."  
  
"I know." Fraser frowned and then stared at Ray. "How did the meeting with Internal Affairs go?"  
  
"I'm cleared." Ray kept his voice neutral, but his expression gave him away. 

Fraser pushed for more. "What happened?"  
  
Ray moved to the window, his arms folded tightly around his middle, his stomach still tied in knots. "Nothing I didn't expect. They called it a good shoot."  
  
"Which is as it should be." Ray nodded, but remained quiet and still didn't turn around. "Ray, what aren't you telling me?"  
  
Ray let his head fall forward, his voice tight and his eyes closed. "Mrs. Forman was there, right outside the meeting room. She didn't agree with the good shoot part."  
  
"That's an unfortunate expression."  
  
"You're telling me."  
  
"What did she say?"  
  
"It wasn't so much what she said as how she said it."  
  
Fraser patiently persisted. "Which was?"  
  
"She called me a murderer and then slapped me into Sunday."  
  
Fraser's breath hitched. "Dear Lord, Ray, I'm sorry."  
  
"I know. Me, too."  
  
"Perhaps if I spoke to her. Explained"

"Don't even think about it." Ray whirled around and came back to the bedside. "Look, I hate what happened, but I take full responsibility for it. She doesn't have to know anything else."  
  
"But"

"I said forget about it, Fraser, so forget about it."  
  
"Ray, Iwell, that is to say, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."  
  
"We covered that."

"She had no right to hit you."

"I figure it's the least I can do for the woman whose son I killed." Ray gritted his teeth and then took a deep breath. "Now, what we need to do is work on you, get you up and out of this place."  
  
"I certainly won't argue with that."  
  
"That's a good start. So, you eat anything while I was gone?"  
  
"Some broth and something they called Jello surprise. Nothing I'd care to repeat."  
  
"Or actually eat."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Ray ran a hand through his hair. "I could run downstairs. The cafeteria here isn't too bad. I could get you something."

"I'm not really hungry, Ray."  
  
"But you need to eat."  
  
"As do you."  
  
"Me, I'm fine. I ate a sandwich and had some coffee."  
  
"That's good then."  
  
Ray stopped and then frowned, steeling himself for what he needed to do next. "Look, I know you're running a fever and feel like shit, but we need to talk."  
  
"I thought that's what we were doing?"  
  
"No, I mean really talk, talk about something important, something I need you to hear. You up for that?"  
  
Fraser pushed the button and raised the head of his bed more, his eyes focused entirely on Ray. "What is it?"  
  
Ray paced at the end of the bed, his arms still crossed to keep himself from shaking to pieces. "I'm serious, Fraser. I need you to understand what I'm going to say. You clear-headed enough for that or should I wait? Because I can wait if I need to. I just need to say it sometime."  
  
"Ray, you're blithering. Tell me what you need to tell me."  
  
"It's about the partnership."  
  
Fraser's voice took on a wary edge. "What about the partnership?"  
  
Ray stopped pacing and then stepped to the side of the bed. Both hands took the rail, gripping it tightly, his knuckles white from the strain. "We've got a good thing going, the two of us, a real duet most of the time."  
  
"I'd say so, yes."  
  
"But we've got a problem, too."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"This whole gun thing."  
  
"Ray, I've told you before, I'm not licensed to carry a fire arm."  
  
"But you could be. There are forms, ways to get you a gun."  
  
"Yes, that's true."  
  
"But you don't want to carry."  
  
Fraser closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "No, Ray, I don't."  
  
"Okay, okay, I get that. But things have to change. If you're not going to pack heat, then you've got to stop standing around like you've got some kind of invisible shield. You've got to stop being a fucking bull's eye for every Tom, Dick, and Harry scumbag who wants to put a bullet in your head."

"I don't do that."  
  
Ray raised both hands in the air in frustration and then pointed a finger at Fraser before he continued. "You **do** do that. You did that with Forman, but he wasn't the first. You do it all the fucking time and then I have to watch your back, keep you from being shot twenty ways to Sunday." Ray's voice softened and he leaned back in on the rail, his eyes squeezed shut and his head down on his forearms. "I'm tired, Fraser, tired to death, tired of being afraid of losing you, of being too slow, of not being able to keep your skinny ass alive one more time. I can't keep doing this shit. You want to keep being my partner, things have got to fucking change." 

Ray kept his eyes shut, waiting, not sure what Fraser would say. After a few moments, a hand stroked his hair. The electric touch zapped him to his toes. Ray stilled, stopped breathing for a moment, hoping like hell it meant what he thought it meant. "Fraser?"  
  
"Yes, Ray?"  
  
"What ya doing?"  
  
"Trying to say I'm sorry. I am sorry, Ray. I never realized it was so hard on you. I really didn't mean to put you in that position."  
  
Sorry wasn't want Ray wanted, wasnt what he prayed for. He groaned, "Fraser"

"And I won't do it again, or at least I'll try to do better." The hand continued to pet and caress his hair. "I can't lose your partnership, Ray. It means too much to me."  
  
Eyes still closed, Ray couldn't risk a peek, couldn't dare look into those deep blue eyes if he blew it. "It means a lot to me, too, Fraser."  
  
"Does it?"  
  
Ray stood up, swallowing back his fear. He met his partner's worried gaze. "Yeah, it does, more than I like to admit sometimes."  
  
"More than partners perhaps?"  
  
There it was, the question, the one he'd danced around for way too long. "Maybe."  
  
Fraser smiled weakly and reached for Ray's hand, the contact like a lifeline to hope. "I think we have more to discuss than my risky behavior under fire, Ray."  
  
"Yeah, I think so, too."  
  
Maintaining eye contact, Fraser nodded, his hand still in place. "But not now, not here. I do, however, think that as soon as I'm released, that we should both be more honest about what this all means."  
  
"This?"  
  
"Our relationship."  
  
"Our relationship which is more than a partnership?"  
  
"If we're lucky, yes."  
  
Ray turned his hand, palm up and pressed against another palm, lacing his fingers with Fraser's. "I'm all for a change in luck."  
  
"As am I, Ray."  
  
Standing there, holding his partner's hand, Ray shook his head in amazement. "You never said a damn thing."  
  
"I was waiting for you to make the first move."  
  
"Me? Why me?"  
  
"It seemed only prudent."  
  
Ray chuckled at the use of the word he'd first heard in a graveyard walking next to Fraser's side. "Prudent, huh?"  
  
"Indeed." Fraser squeezed Ray's hand, not withdrawing it, but reaffirming his grasp. "My few romantic relationships have been somewhat unsuccessful to say the least."  
  
"I've got one word to trump that. Stella."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Yeah, ah and a whole barrel of fuck yeahs." Ray leaned in, still holding on, working like crazy to keep from yelling yippee and embarrassing himself. "You and me, this is different."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Sure as I can be."  
  
"How sure is that?"  
  
"Pretty sure." Ray leaned in, biting his lip, wanting to lower the rail between them, to maybe go for a kiss. He swallowed hard and reluctantly paid attention to reason shouting, 'hold up and dont be stupid,' in his head. "Listen, you're right. We have to talk, but until then, we've got to be cool."  
  
"Cool?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, cool like Steve McQueen cool, like we're still just partners, like nothing's changed."  
  
"Has it changed?"  
  
Ray lifted the clasped hands between their faces. "Unless this is just some crazy Canadian thing I don't know about, it's definitely changed."

"But we have to pretend it hasn't?"  
  
"For now, just for when people show up."  
  
Fraser couldn't stop smiling, but he finally nodded. "I agree."  
  
Almost on cue, the door opened and Ray reluctantly released Fraser's hand. The nurse came in with a tray as Ray stepped to the window, his heart filled with hope for the first time since Stella stomped all over it with her expensive, size six pumps. Yeah, he and Fraser were going to do this, this whole more than partnership thing and Ray smiled bigger than he had in ages, relieved that he wasn't losing his mind after all. Fraser really did want more between them, same as he did. Go figure, a Mountie and flatfoot ready to move on to a whole new level of teamwork.

* * *

Three long days later, Fraser sat on the edge of the bed and complained. "They cut off my boots, Ray."  
  
Ray did his best to explain, but his heart really wasn't in it. "Look, there wasn't time to be careful. They had to get them off to take care of the leg. You were bleeding all over the place."  
  
"But my boots, Ray."  
  
"I know, I know. You loved those boots. I can't blame ya for being upset."  
  
Still weak as a kitten, Fraser frowned as he steadied himself with outstretched arms and looked down at his bare feet. "I've had those particular boots for close to fifteen years."  
  
"Fifteen years?"  
  
"Yes. Of course, I'd had them resoled several times, but I had hopes of retiring in those boots."  
  
"Better to lose the boots than your leg, Fraser."  
  
Fraser's head jerked up, his expression softening. "Well said, Ray. You're quite right. Putting things into perspective like that, I suppose getting a new pair of boots is far easier than adjusting to a prosthesis."  
  
Ray ignored the reference to Fraser's close call with losing his leg. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, getting Fraser dressed and into a wheelchair for check out. "Look, let me help you with your pants and then we'll worry about shoes, okay?"  
  
"I'm quite capable of getting dressed on my own, Ray."

Ray held up the sweatpants. "Normally, yeah, but right now you need a little help. Just let me do this. We'll put the good leg in and then ease in the right. You can hold onto me when you stand so we can get them up."  
  
Nodding, Fraser did just that, letting Ray slip on the loose sweatpants and helping him get them hiked up. Sitting back down, face flushed, Fraser shook his head, his breathing already labored. "Dear Lord, I feel like I've climbed a mountain."  
  
"And you will until you get your strength back. The doc warned you about that when he took out the drain. He said it'd take you a while. You just have to take it easy and not overdo."

"Putting on my pants is hardly overdoing, Ray."

Ray didn't bother to argue, just handed Fraser a grey RMCP sweatshirt. "Here. Put this on while I go get the chair and crutches."  
  
"Ray?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Are you absolutely sure about this?"  
  
"Sure about what?"  
  
"About taking care of me for the next few weeks. I have to warn you, I'm not always an easy companion when I'm convalescing."  
  
Ray snorted. "Like I'm surprised?" Before Fraser could ask what he meant, Ray's voice lost its edge. "Listen, Fraser, I'm sure. I want you at my place. Who knows? Maybe by the time you're up on your feet, it'll be our place."  
  
"Our place?"  
  
"Yeah, you and me, bunked in, no more living out of the closet over at the Consulate."  
  
Fraser studied him, his face solemn. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Ray?"  
  
"I thought we'd gone through this."  
  
"I'm not talking about during my recovery. I mean permanently."  
  
Ray didn't meet his eyes, suddenly concerned that he'd stepped too far, too fast. "Look, I don't want to rush you."  
  
"But you'd like me to change my living arrangements to include you?"  
  
"Yeah, maybe, if we don't kill each other over the next few weeks, sure." When Fraser remained silent, Ray glanced up and caught the blue eyes studying him. "What?"

"I think it's certainly something to consider."  
  
"But you're not sure?"  
  
"Ray, there are other factors."  
  
"What other factors? You either want to be with me or you don't."  
  
"It's not as simple as that and this really isn't the time or place to discuss it."  
  
Surprised by the serious tone and expression, Ray swallowed back his disappointment. "Sure, okay. I get that. We'll talk later. We've got plenty of time to figure out what's what." Ray stepped to the door only to hear Fraser speak quietly behind him. 

"I love you, Ray."

Surprised by the sudden admission, Ray turned and walked back to the bed. "Say that again."  
  
Fraser didn't hesitate. "I love you, Ray."  
  
Ray touched Fraser's cheek and smiled, his body jazzed with the whole notion of loving this guy and knowing he loved Ray right back. "I love you, too."  
  
"I don't mean to ever hurt you."

"So don't. Just be you and I'll be me. It'll be fine."  
  
Fraser captured Ray's hand at his face. "I want to believe that, but experience tells me things won't be quite that simple."  
  
"Love never is, but it's worth it."  
  
"I want to believe that."  
  
"Then believe it." Ray took a chance, leaning in and kissing Fraser for the first time, just a quick, soft rub of one man's lips to another before pulling away. He smiled at Fraser's shocked silent condition, patting his cheek before heading back to the door. "Now, sit tight. I'll get us that chair and get us the hell out of this joint. I've got a ton of things I want to say and do, none of which I can do while we're stuck here."  
  
As he headed out into the hall, Ray glimpsed Fraser's goofy grin as his partner fingered his lips with wonder. Smiling to himself, Ray couldnt wait to get home and stun Fraser stupid with more than just kisses.

* * *

"Okay, okay, you know where the towels are. Anything else you need?"  
  
Fraser leaned back against the wooden headboard, his face pale, his right leg resting on a row of pillows. "I'm fine, Ray. I think I'd just like to rest."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about the elevator thing, Fraser. It was working last week."  
  
"It's fine, Ray. Not your fault."  
  
"I'll talk to my landlady about getting it fixed. You don't need to be going up and down all those stairs until you're better."  
  
"Actually, I think the exercise should be good for me, Ray. It's not a problem, really."  
  
"It is a problem. You've got two weeks on crutches and we're on the third floor. Besides, the thing's supposed to work. No reason why it shouldn't."  
  
Fraser sighed and closed his eyes. "As you wish, Ray."  
  
Ray settled on the left side of the bed, careful not to disturb Fraser's leg. "You're really wiped out, huh?"  
  
"I'm tired, yes."  
  
"I'll let you get some sleep then."  
  
Ray rose only to have his hand captured. "No, don't leave just yet. Stay."  
  
Wrapping his free hand over their joined ones, Ray smiled. "Sure."  
  
Fraser opened his eyes, the fatigue straining his features. "You kissed me, Ray, and I must say, it was delightful."  
  
"You liked it, huh?"  
  
"Immensely. I wasn't expecting it."  
  
Sensing the direction of the conversation, Ray grinned. "You expecting it now?"  
  
"Not so much expect, but desire."  
  
The soft, sexy tone sizzled Ray's skin. He leaned in carefully and once again brushed his lips across Fraser's, lingering, taking more time. He added pressure and Fraser's tongue flicked out and slipped into Ray's mouth. Encouraged, Ray joined in the fun, both tongues tasting the other, meeting shyly at first and then growing more bold, shoving and testing. Fraser's deep moan and shudder went straight to Ray's cock. He stopped and eased back. "You're tired, Fraser. We can't do this now."  
  
"But soon?"  
  
"When you're ready."  
  
Fraser sighed in disappointment and let his head fall back against the raised pillow behind his head. "I was shot in the leg, Ray, but all the other parts of my body work quite adequately."  
  
"Is that your fancy way of saying you're up to it?"  
  
"Not just this second, perhaps, but I'm not an invalid. I think we can both achieve satisfaction without resorting to athletics."  
  
Ray chuckled and shook his head in amusement, his horny brain running all kinds of nifty images of a sexy, athletic Fraser in action. "What'd you have in mind, Fraser?"  
  
A hand slid over Ray's thigh, stroking it several times before stilling. "After I rest, I'd like very much to demonstrate, Ray."

His throat dry, Ray nodded. "I think that can be arranged."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Fraser?"  
  
"Yes, Ray?"  
  
"You think I only want you for your body?"  
  
Fraser blinked several times in surprise but never took his eyes from Ray. "No, I don't think that. Perhaps I've overstepped. I just assumed the physical aspect of an intimate relationship was something you wanted."  
  
"I do. It is." Ray turned more to face Fraser, his heart pounding. He needed to say this right, not fuck it up. "But I want more than that, too. Sure, I want you like that. Who wouldn't? Jesus. But I want you, the guy behind the Mountie mask, the guy who makes me a better person just by letting me hang around."

Fraser cupped Ray's cheek and thumbed his lower lip. "You're a great person on your own, Ray."  
  
"But I'm a better person with you."  
  
"As I am with you."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Absolutely." Fraser swallowed hard as he tugged at his ear nervously, his voice more strained. "I have a confession to make, Ray."  
  
"A confession?"  
  
"Yes, one that's not easy for me."  
  
"Confessions ain't by definition easy, Fraser." Ray captured Fraser's hand, kissed the palm, and then held it to his chest. He braced himself for whatever it was that made Fraser look like he'd swallowed ten pounds of pemmican all at once. "What is it?"  
  
"I've been a coward."  
  
"A coward?"  
  
"Yes, from the very start, I've been afraid to tell you how I felt. I kept waiting, hoping as it were, that you'd say something, that I wasn't misreading the signals."  
  
"Signals?"  
  
"Yes. I got the impression you might be attracted to me, but I didn't trust my instinct about that. Because of my previous negative romantic situations, I was, too what's the expression?"  
  
"Gun shy?"  
  
"That's it, gun shy. I've been hurt badly, Ray, and I'm afraid it's made me rather pusillanimous when it comes to expressing my feelings."  
  
"Pusilalwhatsis?"  
  
"Cowardly, timid, not very brave."  
  
Ray squeezed Fraser's hand and then kissed him softly before pulling back. He leaned forward, resting his forehead briefly against Fraser's, his voice a whisper. "You think you're the only one who was that p-word? I wanted you, too, but I couldn't take a chance."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I was afraid."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
Lifting his head, Ray met Fraser's intense gaze. "Same as you probably. What if I was wrong? What if you wanted to pop me one or worse, leave? I couldnt take the chance."  
  
"And now?"  
  
"I almost lost you. I guess I figured it was time to 'fess up."  
  
Fraser sighed in understanding, his dark blue eyes misted over. "Thank you, Ray. You're a good partner and a good man."  
  
"And you love me?"  
  
"Very much so, yes."  
  
"Me, too, love you, that is."  
  
"Understood."  
  
Ray sat back, his hand palming Fraser's chest. "You should sleep some. When you get up, I'll fix us something to eat. We'll talk more and then work out some stuff."  
  
"Ray?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I think maybe you should call me Ben when we're alone."  
  
"Ben, huh?"  
  
"It is my name, Ray."  
  
"Not Benton or Benny?"  
  
Fraser frowned, shaking his head stubbornly. "Ben."  
  
"Ben it is then. Not a problem."  
  
"Benny, indeed."  
  
"Hey, I heard that's what Vecchio called you."  
  
Ben caressed Ray's cheek. "Yes, he did, Ray, but you're not Vecchio."  
  
"You sure?"

"You don't even look like him."

"I could've had plastic surgery."  
  
Ben grinned at their old joke. "I'm sure, Stanley."  
  
Groaning, Ray's head fell against Ben's chest as he punched him lightly in the arm. "Freak."  
  
A hand caught the back of Ray's head, holding his face against Ben's body. A whisper blew warm air against the back of Ray's neck. "I love you, Stanley Raymond Kowalski."  
  
Eyes closed, Ray shuddered with heat, his own voice a soft hiss. "It's Ray."

"Yes. My Ray, my only Ray."

Lifting his head, Ray looked into Ben's steady gaze. "How did you know?"  
  
"That you worried that I cared for Ray Vecchio more than you?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Body language."  
  
"Body language?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I thought you said you didn't speak that language."  
  
Ben leaned in, kissing Ray and then pulling back. "You've been a good teacher."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"You like watching my body talk?"

"Sing more like."  
  
"Sing?"  
  
"Your movements are like music, Ray. You're very graceful, much like a dancer."  
  
Still not quite convinced, Ray pushed. "But you understand what I'm saying and thinking just by the way I move?"  
  
"I'd like to think I've become rather proficient in Ray, yes."  
  
Ray laughed and pulled back, checking the seriousness of Ben's expression. "Ray? That's what you call it?"  
  
"A very interesting language in and of itself, I assure you."  
  
"Yeah, so what am I saying now?" Ray brought his face in close, his chest tight with anticipation, filled with the hope carried in Fraser's words.  
  
Fraser smiled and ran a finger along the edge of Ray's jaw. "You're saying you want to stay here with me while I sleep."

"I do, huh?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Ray didn't deny it, just took care to stretch out, allowing his partner to hold on tightly while Ben drifted to sleep. Lying there, still awake, still puzzling over how Ben could possibly know about his insecurities like that, he waited quietly. He didn't move, didn't fidget like usual. Instead, he vowed to someday learn the language of Ben as well as Ben knew Ray.

* * *

Ray rolled over and sat up, rubbing his face with both hands, wondering what the hell woke him up. Then beside him, Ben groaned in pain again, the lines of his face tight, his skin pale. Worried, Ray touched Ben's shoulder and shook him gently. "Ben, wake up." 

It took several nudges before eyelids flickered and Ben finally opened his eyes. "Ray? What's wrong?"  
  
"How's the leg?"  
  
"You woke me up to ask me that?"  
  
"You were groaning in your sleep."  
  
"Ah, I see." Ben sighed and swallowed hard, closing his eyes again. 

Ray glanced at the clock and shook his head. "Damn. It's after eight. You should've taken your pills a couple of hours ago. No wonder you're in pain."  
  
"It's not that bad, Ray. Besides, I thought I might try to taper off the pain medication."  
  
Ray stood up and ran a hand through his spiky bed-hair several times. "Taper off, huh?"  
  
"I thought I might, yes."  
  
"You're nuts, you know that? If the doc wanted you to taper off, he wouldn't have given you the stuff and told you to be sure to use it."  
  
Ben struggled to sit up, wincing as he shifted to rest against the headboard. "It's my body, Ray, and my threshold for pain is higher than average."  
  
"Higher than average? What's that mean? You can take it? You're a tough guy?"  
  
Ben looked up and met Ray's angry eyes. "Why are you so upset?"  
  
"Because you almost had your leg blown off and you want to pull this whole stiff upper-lipped Mountie bullshit. You got pain, you take the goddamn pills. We're not going to argue about this."  
  
"Ray"

"Don't Ray me. You take the pills or I'll pop ya."  
  
Ben's expression softened. "Well, in that case, I suppose I will."  
  
Ray picked up the pill bottles by the bed and handed them to Ben. "I'll get some water. It's time for your antibiotics, too."

Ben didn't speak as he poured out the pills. By the time Ray got back from the kitchen, he'd calmed down. He held out the glass. "You know I'd never really pop you, right?"  
  
"I know that, Ray." Taking the water, Ben put the pills in his mouth and chased them down with half the glass of water. He let his head rest back against the headboard.

"Because that one time, that was one time too many."  
  
Ben lifted his arm and reached out to Ray. "Sit down.'  
  
Ray settled on the edge of the bed, careful not to hurt Ben's leg. "I know you'd never hit me, Ray. Before was an aberration brought on by stress and confusion. I believe we've worked that out. When you threaten violence now, I know it's just posturing borne out of the fear you have for my safety and well being."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good, because I worry when you try to pull that tapering off shit. It's not like you're addicted or anything. I know you wouldn't take more than you need, but I don't want you to hurt just for the hell of it or because you think you deserve it."  
  
Ben frowned and tilted his head. "What makes you think I'd believe I deserve pain, Ray?"  
  
Shrugging, not sure how to say what he was thinking, Ray stumbled over the words. "You've got this guilt thing sometimes. It's like you punish yourself for stuff, stuff that just happens."

"That's not true, Ray."  
  
"Did you or did you not let yourself get beat up by Warfield's goons at Christmas?"  
  
"I didn't let myself get beaten up, Ray. I was outnumbered."  
  
"But you stayed in front of that place, pissing people off, knowing that shit would happen. You still did it anyway even after I tried to warn you about it. I don't think it was totally because you wanted justice. You couldn't help the kid, so you figured you'd pay for it with a few bruises."

"I believe that's an oversimplification of the situation."

Ray didn't bother to listen, just kept stating his case. "And why are you still living in a room the size of a closet at the Consulate? Don't you think you deserve a place of your own? And what about when your back acts up? You take anything for that? No. Hardly ever. Most of the time you just hobble around and pretend it's no big deal. But it is. I can see how hard it is for you to even straighten up sometimes."  
  
Ben's mouth opened, but then closed again. He swallowed hard before he finally spoke, his voice strained. "It's not like that, Ray. I don't believe I deserve to suffer. However, I could see how the points you've listed might lead you to surmise that."  
  
"Surmise, hell. I've been a cop too long not to see what's what." He held up a hand to stop the protest. "I just don't want you to hurt, Ben, not if you don't have to. That's all I'm saying."  
  
Reaching out, Ben took Ray's hand and squeezed it. "I appreciate that."  
  
"So no more hard time about taking the pills, okay?"  
  
Hesitating, Ben finally nodded. "I'll take them as I need them."  
  
"You'll take them as prescribed."  
  
"Ray"  
  
"I mean it, Ben. No more groaning in your sleep or being some kind of Martian."  
  
"Martian?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, somebody who suffers for a cause or something."  
  
"You mean a martyr?"  
  
"Yeah. What'd I say?"  
  
"That's not important. I take your meaning. I assure you, I have no plans to be a martyr. However, I don't wish to overmedicate once the leg starts to heal."  
  
"You stop groaning in your sleep and looking like you did sixteen rounds with the Sugar Man, then, okay."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
Ray sighed and then jerked his head sideways, the cracking loud in the quiet of the room. "You want I should boil some water and make some tea?"  
  
"Tea would be lovely, Ray. Thank you."  
  
Ray turned and faced Ben, noting the improved color and the more relaxed features. "Pills kicking in?"  
  
"They seem to be, yes."  
  
"Good. Look, I'll make you some tea, and then I need to go out and pick up Dief. Turnbull offered to bring him over, but it's late, so I figured, I'd go get him."  
  
"That'll be fine, Ray."  
  
"You promise you won't be doing anything stupid if I leave you alone for an hour?"  
  
Ben didn't react to the challenge, just smiled and closed his eyes, looking a little bit dopey. "These pills certainly work quickly, Ray."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I seem to be rather floaty at the moment."  
  
"Floaty, huh?"  
  
"Light as a feather."  
  
Ray chuckled to himself. "You able to drink the tea if I fix it?"  
  
The grip on Ray's hand went slack and Ben slid a little bit sideways. A few garbled mutters later, Ray stood up and helped shift Ben into a more comfortable position before covering him with a blanket. Smiling to himself, Ray shook his head, betting to himself that Ben would be the cheapest drunk on the planet if he ever drank more than tea.

* * *

Ray picked up the razor from Ben's leather shaving kit, grimacing at the sharp blade as he rubbed his chin with his other hand. He couldnt imagine scraping off his whiskers with something that looked like it belonged in a museum for Jack the Ripper. "Jesus."  
  
"Detective, may I help you?"  
  
Turning, Ray saw Turnbull standing in the doorway. "No, I'm fine. I'm just getting some things for Ben." Ray flushed a little at the slip of using his partner's first name, but Turnbull didn't seem to notice. He held up the straight-edged razor. "You sure he uses this thing?"  
  
"I've never actually seen the Constable shave, sir, but it certainly seems adequate to the task." 

"If he wants to cut his throat, yeah."  
  
Turnbull didn't comment, just stepped into the office and pulled open a drawer of the desk. He reached in and brought out a belt strap. "I believe he uses this to sharpen it."  
  
"For real?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Shaking his head, Ray took the strap and added it to the box along with the shaving mug and brush. "I guess this is about it, then. Anything else I should take with me besides Dief?"  
  
"Did you get his tea and teapot, sir?"  
  
"Check. I also got what few clothes he has along with the books he had on the shelf in the closet."  
  
"That seems to be it, then."  
  
"This is all he's got?"  
  
"The Constable is quite Spartan in his habits, sir."  
  
"Guess so. All his stuff fits into a duffel and a box."  
  
"Well, there is his other uniform, but I believe it's at the cleaners."  
  
"The brown one?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Ray nodded as he grabbed the duffel bag and put it over his shoulder. "I'll pick it up later then."  
  
Turnbull hesitated, but then added, "Sir, there is one more thing."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"His guitar."  
  
"Guitar?"  
  
"Yes, sir. He let me borrow it. I was going to give it to him on his return to work, but it might aid in his convalescence."

Ray shook his head in disbelief. "Fraser plays the guitar? Since when?"  
  
"Since his childhood I believe. He mentioned once that his grandfather taught him."  
  
"Wow, how come I didn't know that?"  
  
"I really couldn't say, sir."  
  
"That's one of those questions that don't need an answer, Turnbull."

"Understood, sir." Turnbull held up a finger. "If you'll wait just one moment, I'll go fetch the guitar."  
  
"Good deal."

As Turnbull left, Ray sat on the edge of the desk and pondered that new bit of knowledge. He knew Fraser sang and he'd seen him play the piano, but not once had the guy mentioned the guitar. Smiling to himself, Ray pictured Fraser singing and strumming in some smoky club somewhere, all the ladies swooning at the crooning Mountie, his Mountie. Suddenly the room seemed a lot warmer and Ray tugged at his collar, hoping he didn't embarrass himself by busting out of his jeans right there in Fraser's office.  
  
Dief woofed at his feet, impatient. "Hold your caribou, Dief. We're waiting for Turnbull."

On cue, Turnbull arrived. He stroked the acoustic guitar lovingly. "Please tell Constable Fraser how much I appreciate him letting me borrow it."  
  
"Tell him yourself. Come by in few days after he's settled in."  
  
"May I?"  
  
"Sure." Ray stood and picked up the box from the desk. "Help me get this stuff to the car, will ya?"  
  
"Certainly, sir."  
  
"And enough of the sir stuff. I'm just Ray."  
  
Turnbull nodded with a smile. "Thank you, Ray. You may call me Rennie."  
  
"Rennie?"  
  
"For Renfield."  
  
"Riiight." As they walked down the corridor, Ray shook his head in amusement. "All you guys from Canada have funny names?"  
  
"Funny names, Ray?"  
  
"Forget it. I'm just kiddin'."  
  
"Ah, I see. American humor."  
  
"Something like that." As they headed out to his car, Dief followed close behind. Ray popped the trunk and put the box and duffel bag inside. He took the guitar from Rennie, deciding to put it in the front seat beside him. "Look, I've got another favor to ask."  
  
"Ask away, Ray."  
  
"It's about Fraser's boots."  
  
"His boots?"  
  
"Yeah, they had to cut them off at the hospital." Turnbull's squeak of horror surprised him, but he kept on talking, trying to keep a straight face. "So, what I'd like to do is order him another pair. Do I need to go through official channels to do something like that or is there some kind of Mountie supply store I can go to?"  
  
"They cut off his boots? Constable Fraser must be beside himself. Those were wonderful boots, expertly crafted, so...so, oh, dear, his lovely boots."  
  
"Stick with me here, Rennie. Can you get the new boots or not?"  
  
Regaining his composure, Turnbull's nodded. "I think so. I know the man who does work for the Constable. If he can't make the boots himself, I can get the measurements and then I can order them from Canada."

"Great. I'll pay for it."  
  
"It might be costly."  
  
"For a good pair of Mountie boots, it'll be worth it." Ray leaned in a little, keeping his voice low. "Thing is, I kind of want it to be a surprise, so no telling Fraser, okay?"  
  
Turnbull smiled broadly and held his index finger against his mouth. "My lips are sealed, Ray. I'll get started on the project first thing in the morning."  
  
Ray held out his hand. "Thanks, Rennie. I appreciate it, and thanks for taking care of Dief, too. You've been a good pal."  
  
"You're welcome. I enjoyed it, actually. Diefenbaker is really good company."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yes. He's an excellent listener."  
  
Ray cocked an eyebrow. "You know he's deaf, right?"  
  
"Even so, his attention span is quite remarkable for a canine. It must be the fact that he's a mixed breed."

"Yeah, that must be it. The wolf's blood thrown in there must make all the difference."  
  
Turnbull missed the sarcasm completely and kept rambling. "He has such focus. Sometimes I forget he's not human."

Grinning, Ray agreed. "Yeah, he's like that, just one of the guys, only sporting fur." Ray headed to the car door, opened it, and let Dief jump in the back. He put the guitar across the front seat and then closed the door. "Call me when you get an estimate on the boots, okay?"  
  
"Certainly, Ray. Drive carefully and give Constable Fraser my best." As Ray walked around and opened the driver's door, Turnbull added, "If you don't mind my saying so, I'm glad he's finally found a place to live outside the Consulate. I'm sure you two will be very happy together."  
  
Ray stopped moving, not quite sure if he'd heard right. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Ray, if I misunderstood. I assumed this was a permanent move."  
  
"What makes you think that?"  
  
"Well, you got all of the Constable's belongings and you called him Ben. That would suggest that your relationship has changed somewhat."  
  
Stunned, Ray studied the guileless features of the man across from him. If Turnbull figured it out so fast, no way could they keep it a secret from anybody else for long. Ray cleared his throat and played it cool. "Look any changes are between us, Fraser and me, okay? I don't think he'd be too happy with people jumping to conclusions even though I can see how you'd think that, you being a keen-eyed Mountie and all."  
  
Turnbull frowned, blinked a few times, and then smiled again. "Ah."  
  
"Ah?"  
  
"I take your meaning, Ray. You wish to keep your relationship and living arrangements private. Understood."  
  
"It's just I don't want people getting the wrong idea or causing trouble, okay?"  
  
"Say no more, Ray. Your secret is safe with me."

Unsettled, Ray couldn't shut up. "I mean, we're not in Canada. Things could get hairy if people thought what you thought."  
  
More serious, Turnbull nodded. "Unfortunately, that's quite true, Ray. The United States is a wonderful country in many ways, but it's not quite as progressive when it comes to domestic partnerships as Canada is."  
  
"Okay, okay, so we're clear here. No talking about this with anybody else until me and Fraser work out what we want to do, okay?"  
  
"Absolutely, Ray. I didn't mean to cause you concern. I was just so happy for the two of you, that I got carried away and verbalized my excitement. It won't happen again." Turnbull put his fingers to his lips and twisted as if turning a key.  
  
Ray sighed and nodded, knowing full well that Turnbull couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it. "Thanks. Look, I've got to go. Fraser's asleep, but he might wake up and I dont want him moving around on his own."  
  
"By all means, hurry home. I'll call you tomorrow when I find out about the boots."  
  
"Remember, not a word to Fraser about that. It's a surprise."

"It will be a wonderful surprise, Ray, very thoughtful."  
  
Climbing in his car, he shut the door, still a little shaken at Turnbull's comments about his relationship with Fraser. As he started the car, he got an earful of wolf spit and headed home to ask Ben what he thought about their lives together and how they should play the whole deal. Closet life didn't suit Ben and it sure didn't do much for Ray. At the same time, Ray didn't know if he could handle being a gay cop, not in Chicago, not while he was doing the whole Vecchio undercover deal. Shit. Leave it to Turnbull to stir things up before he knew what the fuck he should do.

One thing he did know for sure was that he wanted Ben in his life as more than just a partner, more than just someone to help with the job. If that meant taking shit from every scumbag on the street or every homophobic cop on the force, he'd do it, do it and not even think twice, not when he knew he had Ben to hold him and make it all right.

* * *

Ray walked into the apartment carrying the guitar, box, and pack to find Ben sitting sideways on the sofa, his leg propped up on some pillows.

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?"  
  
"A simple hello would suffice, Ray."  
  
"A simple hello, my ass. Answer the question."  
  
Dief padded over to Ben and nudged his hand. His fingers buried in Dief's fur, Ben smiled. "It's good to see you, too, Diefenbaker."  
  
Ray growled to himself as he put things down on the table and walked over to the chair by the couch and sat down. "Rules."  
  
Ben lifted his head and met his gaze, his blue eyes still a little glazed over. "Rules, Ray?"  
  
"Rules, Ben. Weve got to have 'em. First off, you don't get up and wander around while I'm not here, not until you get steady on your feet. And second, you just don't do that, understand?"  
  
"I'm fine, Ray, no need to worry."  
  
"You're not hearing me, Ben."  
  
"I'm hearing you quite well. I just don't agree."  
  
"What if you'd cracked your skull open when you fell on your ass?"  
  
Ben sighed and continued to pet Diefenbaker. "I'm fine, Ray, really. There's no need to be upset or make a fuss."  
  
"I can make a fuss if I want."  
  
Licking his lower lip, Ben sat back against the armrest, Diefenbaker settled at the end of the sofa. "And I appreciate the concern. In this case, however, I didn't have a choice."  
  
"You always have a choice. You can use good, old-fashioned common sense or you can do something stupid and end up hurt."  
  
Ben cleared his throat, his face a bit flushed with embarrassment. "Ray, I could either get up and use the facilities or soil the bed. I chose to get up. As it happened, I was a bit unsteady at first, but I managed. I would've preferred to wait, but it really wasn't a feasible option."

"Oh." Ray swallowed hard, pissed at himself for thinking the worst, stubborn Mountie being contrary and all. "You had to use the can, huh?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, I guess that's okay then." Ray paused, but then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "But you could've gone back to bed, not sit out here getting worn out."  
  
"I wanted to wait for you."  
  
His anger deflated, Ray smiled, pleased as hell by the admission. "You did, huh?"  
  
"Yes, I woke up and you were gone. Odd, I don't remember you leaving."  
  
"The pills hit you pretty hard."  
  
Ben shifted a little to get more comfortable, rubbing the top of his leg. "I have no tolerance for pain medications, Ray, thus my tendency to under medicate. Certainly, such narcotics have their uses, but I find I don't like how they make me feel in general."  
  
"I can understand that."

Ben met his eyes again. "Can you?"  
  
"Sure. Why not? Not everybody likes to get high. Like you said, you've got no tolerance. I'll bet if you drink a couple of beers, you're done for."  
  
"That's very true. My system seems to have an idiosyncratic reaction to alcohol as well."  
  
"Idio-whatsis? Is that like saying you're an idiot when you drink? I mean, most people get stupid when they get buzzed."

Ben smiled weakly and shook his head. "I didn't mean that. I just meant, my body doesn't react well. I either become quite ill or fall asleep."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yes. As for the pain medication, it just makes me sleepy."  
  
"Then sleep. You're supposed to be resting."  
  
Pausing, Ben shrugged. "I will in a bit, but I missed you. I wanted to stay awake until you got home."

"I missed you, too." Ben didn't say anything, just looked at him with that million-watt smile. Ray slapped his knees. "So, you want something to eat? I can make you some tea and then either order something or cook."  
  
"Tea would be wonderful."  
  
"And food?"  
  
"Whatever you'd like, Ray. I'm not very hungry."  
  
"But you'll eat if I fix something, right?"  
  
"As long as it's not too spicy. My stomach feels a bit queasy."  
  
"It's probably the antibiotics. They make me puke most of the time."  
  
"Soup then."  
  
"Soup it is."  
  
Ray got up and went to the stove, put some water on, and then got out Ben's teapot and canister of tea. He looked inside the tin and frowned. "Hey, Ben."  
  
"Yes, Ray?"  
  
"Where are the teabags? There's nothing here but twigs."  
  
"It's bark tea, Ray. It's bark, not twigs."  
  
"Looks the same to me. How do you fix this stuff if you don't have teabags?"  
  
"There are a number of possible ways. One"

"Just give me the quickest way."  
  
"Ah, well, then you put two teaspoons in the teapot, pour boiling water over the bark, and let it seep for about 5 minutes before serving."  
  
"But won't the woody stuff come out when I pour it into a cup?"  
  
"You strain the tea as you pour it into the cup, Ray."  
  
"Strain it?"  
  
"With a strainer."  
  
Ray stood in the kitchen and scratched his head. "So, if a person didn't have a strainer, what would he do?"  
  
Ben chuckled. "Ray, it's not a problem if some of the bark is in the tea. There are no tea strainers in the wild."

"What if I poured it through a clean towel or something?"

"Just bring the water to a boil and then turn it off. Put the bark in the pan, seep, and then pour it out of the pan."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"I've done it many times myself."  
  
"Okay, then. I can do that. I'll buy us a strainer first thing tomorrow."  
  
Ben shifted and turned on the sofa enough to see Ray. "Us, Ray?"  
  
"Yeah, us. It's not like I'll use it that much, but if you want your tea junk free, then I'll splurge and get us one."  
  
"That's very thoughtful. Thank you kindly."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Ben turned back around, moving a little side to side to get more comfortable. Ray walked back over to him and sat down in the chair. "Rennie wanted me to say thanks for letting him use your guitar."

Looking puzzled, Ben stared at him for a second. "Rennie?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, Turnbull."  
  
"I know who Rennie is, Ray. I just didn't realize you two were on a first name basis."  
  
"Hey, just because you're all formal with the guy doesn't mean I have to be. I told him to call me Ray and after that he said to call him Rennie. We're old pals, him and me."  
  
"Oh really."

The pissy tone amused Ray no end. "Don't tell me you're jealous."  
  
"Of course not. That would be silly."  
  
"Yeah, it would, silly as hell since I've only got eyes for one Mountie and it sure as hell ain't Turnbull." Ben relaxed slightly before Ray added, "Even though he is kind of good looking in a goofy sort of way."  
  
"Ray"

"Just kiddin'."

"Understood."  
  
"How come you never told me you played the guitar?"  
  
"You never asked."  
  
"No, really, why didn't you say?"  
  
"The subject never arose."  
  
"Not even when that Tracy Jenkins chick was in town? I mean, I knew you could sing, even play the piano some, but you didn't say anything about the guitar."  
  
"I didn't keep it a secret, Ray. I just don't get a chance to play much, not since I came to Chicago."  
  
"But you like playing?"  
  
"Yes, sometimes."  
  
"You going to play for me sometime?"  
  
Ben smiled and nodded, his eyes much more clear than before. "Absolutely. As soon as I'm feeling better and my fingers aren't half numb, I'll play whatever you want."  
  
"Serenade me even?"  
  
"You want me to sing to you?"  
  
"Sure." Ray remembered the thrill of hearing Fraser sing that first time. "I'd like that. Just don't expect me to return the favor. I can't carry a tune in a bucket."  
  
"I find that hard to believe, Ray. You've got a lovely speaking voice. I can't imagine you can't sing as well."  
  
"Believe it. My dad used to say that I sounded like a dead cat. When I told him dead cats can't sing, he just laughed and said that was his point."  
  
Shaking his head, Ben frowned. "I don't mean any disrespect to your father, Ray, but that was unkind."  
  
"But true. Pop never pulled any punches when it came to saying what he thought."  
  
"Much like his son."  
  
"In a lot of ways, yeah."  
  
Ben's expression turned thoughtful. "You don't talk about your parents much. In what ways are you like your father?"  
  
Ray cleared his throat and stood up. He glanced over to the stove, hoping like hell to see water boiling, the sooner the better. "We'll talk about my old man some other time, okay? I've got tea to make."  
  
"Ray, I don't mean to pry."  
  
Instead of moving to the stove, Ray stood very still and then dropped to his knees to kneel by the sofa so he could be eye-to-eye with Ben. He took his partner's hand in his own, his tone firm. "We're together now, okay, so it's not prying to ask those kinds of questions. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just not now. I really don't want to deal with all that now."  
  
"I understand, Ray. Talking about one's parents isn't always easy."  
  
Ray studied Ben's sad expression and knew without question that Ben wasn't just being polite. "Wow. You get what I'm saying."  
  
"Yes, I do. I get it more than you know."  
  
"You and your dad weren't exactly great pals, huh?"  
  
"Not exactly, no."

"Even though you came to Chicago on the trail of his killers?"

"Even so."

"That's the thing, my pop and me, we were the best pals ever when I was a kid growing up, but then things changed. I didn't do what he wanted and I guess he thought I was a loser."  
  
"He couldnt think that, Ray."  
  
"Sure he could. To him I was a loser." Ray's throat tightened around the hard words. "After I met Stella, he thought I was going places, thought she'd move me up and out of blue collar. When he realized that wasn't going to happen, that I wanted to be a cop, well, he pretty much said screw you. I hadn't talked to him for years until him and my mum came back from Arizona. Still, we're not tight like we used to be. I tried, but it's just not the same."  
  
Ben cupped Ray's face. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"Yeah, well, it's not your fault I disappointed my old man."  
  
"If your father was disappointed in you choosing to be a police officer, Ray, that's his loss, not yours. You're an excellent detective. He should be proud of you, not ashamed."  
  
Closing his eyes, Ray drank in the warmth of the touch, the kindness of the words. "Thanks."

"Fathers can be cruel without meaning to be."  
  
Ray opened his eyes again and studied the grim expression. "Your old man was cruel?"  
  
"He did what he thought was best at the time."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Sending me to live with my grandparents after my mother died." Ben sighed and then pulled his hand away, the discussion over. "As you say, Ray, this is better left to another time."  
  
"Yeah, but we will talk about it."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
Ray nodded and stood up, bending over just enough to give Ben a quick kiss. "Water's boiling. I've got twigs to cook."  
  
"Bark, Ray."  
  
"Woof, woof."  
  
Ben laughed out loud at the unexpected response and Ray smiled, more than happy to chase away the haunted expression Ben wore whenever he talked about his dad. Ray didn't need the details. He saw the results, the sadness and terrible heartache Ben carried. The old coot had a hell of a lot to answer for. 

* * *

"This is very good, Ray." Ben ate another spoonful of the chicken soup as he sat sideways on the sofa, legs stretched out.  
  
"Thanks. It's not hard. My mum taught me. Used to feed it to me all the time when I was a kid."  
  
"Still, I expected to eat canned soup, not cuisine made from scratch."  
  
"Doesn't really take long if you've got the stuff around. You just boil the chicken and then throw in some noodles and onion. Spice it up a little and you're done." 

Ben spooned down his last noodle and then tipped the bowl to finish off the last of the broth. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as Ray took the bowl and spoon from him. "Thank you, Ray. It was excellent." 

"Want some dessert? I've got some Twinkies around here somewhere."  
  
"No, thank you. I'm really quite full."  
  
"Maybe later then."  
  
"Feel free to eat some on your own, Ray. I just can't eat another bite."  
  
Ray put the dishes in the sink and patted his stomach. "Naw, I don't need the extra calories."  
  
Ben snorted. "I don't think you have to worry about extra calories, Ray."  
  
Ray came back over and sat down in the chair. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You're hardly overweight or likely to be."  
  
"You sayin' I'm skinny?"

"Slim."  
  
"Skinny."  
  
"Slender."

"Skinny."  
  
"Lean."

Ray scooted a little closer and emphasized the word. "Skinny."  
  
"Oh, very well, skinny, but I don't mean it in a negative way, Ray. I just worry that sometimes you don't eat enough."

"Same here."  
  
"But that's only recently. I'm sure my appetite will return shortly. Unlike you, I do tend to put on weight. Since I came to Chicago, I've actually gained eight pounds and two inches."  
  
"Eight pounds and two inches, huh?" Ray's tone came across as less than serious. "So, where'd you gain the two inches? Anywhere interesting?"  
  
Ben blushed a bright pink. "Ray, you're incorrigible."  
  
"Hey, it's an honest question. I mean, two inches can make a hell of a difference sometimes."

Shaking his head at Ray's teasing, Ben took a couple of deep breaths before he spoke. "I'm serious, Ray. I do tend to put on weight if I don't stay active enough."  
  
"Oh, well, I think I can make sure that's not a problem once you get on your feet again. Of course, staying on your feet, that might be a problem."  
  
Once again, Ben flushed scarlet. Ray reached out and took his hand. "I don't mean to embarrass you, Ben. I'm just messin' around."  
  
"I know that. Actually, your frankness concerning your sexual desire is really quite refreshing."

"Yeah?"  
  
Ben squeezed his hand and met his gaze. "Yes. I'm sorry about earlier."  
  
"For what? What'd you do?"  
  
"It was more what I didn't do. I made a rather ambitious promise of amorous intent, but failed to follow through."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I promised you lovemaking after our nap, but my leg had a different agenda."  
  
Ray grinned and shook his head. "You freak."  
  
"Your freak."  
  
"I hope so."  
  
Lifting their clasped hands to his lips, Ben kissed Ray's knuckles. "I belong to you, Ray, as much as anyone can belong to another."  
  
"I feel the same way."  
  
"I'm pleased."  
  
"Im pretty pleased myself." After a few moments, Ray reluctantly added, "We've got to talk about some other stuff though."  
  
"What kind of stuff, Ray?"  
  
"We need to decide how we're going to play this."  
  
"I don't understand. Play what?"  
  
"I mean, are we going to be in or out?"  
  
Confused, Ben cracked his neck and studied Ray's face a few moments. "In or out of what, Ray?"  
  
Ray released Ben's hand and stood up. He paced the room several times and then stopped at the end of the sofa. "I'm not saying this right."  
  
"Perhaps I'm just being dense. I sometimes miss the obvious."  
  
"Tell me about it. How much does a pound of cheese weigh on Pluto?"  
  
"The same as"

"Ben, I'm not talking about cheese here."  
  
"Then what are you talking about?"  
  
"I'm talking about do we want to let people know we're together or not?"  
  
Ben went very still. "Ah."  
  
"What's that mean, ah? You don't want to tell people?"  
  
"I didn't say that, Ray."  
  
Ray wobbled his head slightly in frustration and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. "No, you just said ah, like that's the only word you can come up with when you've got a whole head full of words."  
  
"I just meant, I'm not sure."  
  
"Not sure?"  
  
"Well, there are other issues. You're undercover. If people find out we're together, it might jeopardize your assignment and Ray's life."  
  
Ray bit his lip and sat back down in the chair. He took a couple of big breaths, not really knowing what he could say to convince Ben that pretending to be Ray Vecchio didn't have to mean that they had to pretend to be just partners until the guy came back. After a few moments, he spoke quietly, figuring the truth might be the best shot. "You know, when I took this job, I kind of got the impression that some people thought you and Vecchio were an item."  
  
"An item? What sort of item?"  
  
Rubbing his temples with the heel of his hands, Ray closed his eyes, the frustration building. "You really don't know?"  
  
"I assure you that I'm a bit befuddled by this whole conversation."  
  
"Befuddled, huh? Well, how's this for befuddled? The rumor was that Vecchio sometimes played for both teams."  
  
"Both teams?"  
  
Ray groaned before he sat up and checked out Ben's lost expression. He took a deep breath and jumped in. "I'm saying, some people thought Vecchio was sleeping with you. They said you two got together after you were shot. Seems you two went off alone somewhere to a cabin in the woods or something. People figured you were together and were just keeping it quiet."  
  
Ben's eyes grew wide. "Surely you're joking."  
  
"Nope. I'm not. It's not in the file, but that's what I heard."  
  
"Who are these people?"  
  
"Doesnt matter."  
  
"Of course, it matters. Good Lord. Ray Vecchio is definitely heterosexual. Any suggestion otherwise would make him very uncomfortable."  
  
"It would, huh?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"But it doesn't bother you that they thought you might be gay?"  
  
Ben tugged at his ear and didn't look up. "I must confess it surprises me somewhat. However, I do work around detectives, so that conclusion would be inevitable."

"You mean because you never accept Frannie's come ons and hardly look twice at most of the women?"  
  
"I was thinking more along the lines of astute people noticing how I look at you."  
  
"Oh." Ray sat up a bit, suddenly pleased as shit. Then he sobered. "Speaking of astute people, Turnbull already knows. He thinks we're going to be happy together."  
  
"Turnbull said that?"  
  
"Yep, and he said he's going to keep it a secret, but you know how secrets are with that guy. Might as well put an announcement in the Sunday paper."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"But he's okay with it. Said something about Canada being ahead of us in the whole domestic partnership thing."  
  
"Well, he's right about that."  
  
"Tell me about it. The US sucks about shit like this. Anyway, what I need to know is, are you going to be comfortable if people think we're living together?"  
  
"We are living together."

"But I mean **living** living together."  
  
"As in living together?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Ray held his breath, hoping like hell Ben wanted the same thing. After a few moments, Ben's voice broke the silence and Ray took in some air. "I don't see why where we live or how we live when we're not working is anyone's affair, Ray. If, as you say, many people think Ray Vecchio and I were together romantically, then it won't surprise them for us to be together as well."  
  
"Surprised the hell out of me."  
  
"Really? Is that because you believed I was sleeping with Ray Vecchio?"  
  
"No. I wasn't sure about that. Figured it wasn't really any of my business. I just didn't think you'd ever be interested in me."  
  
Ben lifted his hand and reached out to him. "Ray, I'm not the only one who apparently doesnt know what's right under his nose sometimes."  
  
Ray took his hand and sat on the edge of the sofa, his butt backed up against Ben's hip. "Yeah, sure, I'm blind as a bat sometimes about important shit, but it's more than that." Ray held on tight, stroking the top of Ben's hand as he spoke quietly. "I've struggled with being gay a long time. Even when I was with Stella, I had these urges. I never acted on them, but they were there as far back as I can remember." Ray lifted his head, staring into deep blue. "When I saw you, all that want hit me like a fucking sledgehammer."

"Want?"  
  
"Want, need, gotta have. I saw you and wanted you, but I kept holding back. I kept waiting for a sign. I couldn't risk losing you over sex."  
  
"It's not just about sex, Ray."  
  
"I know that. I know that. I do. I know it's about love, but it's still about sex, too, something that some people are going to give us grief about. I just want you to know, I don't care about that shit, not if you're in this 100%. I've never been too scared to go after what I want as long as I know the other person wants the same thing."  
  
"Like Stella?"  
  
"Yeah, like Stella. Got it in one. I knew when I saw her, she was out of my league, but as long as she said she wanted me, too, I'd do anything to keep her. And I did, for years. You wouldn't believe the shit I went through to keep her, the stuff I gave up, the stuff I put up with. Then out of the blue, she didn't want me anymore, wanted to move on, told me to do the same." Ray swallowed hard, his breathing suddenly difficult. "I swear to god, that almost did me in, Ben, almost sent me over the fucking edge. I don't want that to happen to us. I don't want to think we're going to have something together and then you decide it's too hard or too much, that you have to move on. Tell me that's not going to happen." Ray closed his eyes against the tears that welled up. No way did he want to bawl over this, no fucking way.

A hand cupped his face and a thumb smoothed across his cheek and then his lower lip. "Ray, I love you. No matter what happens, that will never change."  
  
Ray lifted his head and sighed, his throat raw from the strain. "But you can't promise it'll be forever, right?"  
  
"Who can promise such a thing? Can you promise me you won't get tired of loving someone like me, someone who has very definite ideas about how life should be led?"  
  
"Are you asking me if I can put up with a hard-headed, stuck-in-his-ways Mountie? Hell, yeah. No problem."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Absolutely. What about you? You think you can stick with a Chicago flatfoot with a hair-trigger temper and experimental hair?"  
  
Ben smiled with affection as he ran a hand through Ray's spiky hair. "Even if you had no hair, I'd love you, Ray."  
  
"But what about the rest?"  
  
"I want it to be forever, too. I think we've both suffered losses in love and that has made us leery of entering into any long term intimate relationships. I think that needs to change. I think we both need to take that leap of faith."  
  
"You think you can handle that with your bad leg?"  
  
"I think I can handle it well enough if you're with me, Ray."  
  
"So you want to do this, no hiding, no pretending we're just friends?"  
  
"We are friends, but I take your point. No, no hiding. We'll continue to work as before, that won't change, but everything else, that's private, but not hidden. We won't lie if asked."  
  
Relieved, Ray leaned in and kissed Ben lightly. As he pulled back, Ben hooked the back of his neck. "More, Ray."  
  
"More what, Ben?"  
  
"More everything."  
  
Sinking into a deeper kiss, Ray drank in the delicious heat, the wonder that made his life richer just by touching this man's skin. Finally, he pulled back. "Bedroom."  
  
"You read my mind."  
  
Ray chuckled, glancing down at Ben's erection. "Oh, yeah, that's your mind all right. Easy to read, too."  
  
Not the least bit embarrassed anymore, Ben smirked, reaching around to rub Ray's bulging crotch. "And I see your mind's easy to read as well, Ray."

Ray moaned at the touch, his body tingling all over. "Come on, let's get you in bed. Then you can show me how we can do this without you hurting yourself."  
  
"With pleasure, Ray."  
  
"I sure as hell hope so."

Taking great care, Ray helped Ben to his feet, letting him lean against his side instead of using the crutches. Slow and easy, they made their way to the bedroom. Once there, Ray eased Ben to the mattress, shifting him onto the bed, lifting his leg up on the pillows for some elevation and another pillow behind his head. 

Standing there, staring down at Ben's hungry eyes, Ray swallowed hard and then stripped off his shirt. He sat in a chair by the bed and took off his boots before taking off his jeans. Standing in his underwear, he whispered. "What about you? You want me to take off your sweats?"  
  
"If you don't mind."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Again, taking his time, trying not to move Ben too much, Ray undressed him, shirt first and then his sweatpants. The heavy white bandage on Ben's leg stood out against the pale skin. Ray tried not to look at it, tried to forget it was there and what it meant, but he couldn't. Ben captured his hand as he touched the waistband of Ben's briefs. "Ray, join me first."  
  
Nodding, not sure of his own voice, Ray covered Ben's body with the blanket and then crawled in the other side of the bed, his body stretched all along Ben's left side, the good side. He closed his eyes, his erection wilting, his throat dry. He jerked suddenly as he heard the shots, heard Ben scream as the bullet tore into him. In his head, he replayed his gun hand lifting, the thunder of the shot as Charles fell back, blood sprayed all over his chest. Beside him, Ben collapsed, his leg covered with red, Charles's gurgling last breath just a few feet away. 

Ben's arm wrapped around him as his hand caressed his cheek. "Ray? What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing. Sorry."  
  
"Ray, you're shaking."  
  
"I almost lost you. Jesus."  
  
The soft sigh in his ear followed by a gentle kiss kept him from flying apart, but didn't stop the tears. Ben shushed and whispered his name over and over, like an answer to a prayer. Ray shuddered, a deep body tension released all at once as he rested his head over the heart of the man he held more dear than his own life.

* * *

Ray came awake slowly, his eyes all crusty and swollen, his mouth cottony dry. He took several deep breaths and heard a soft, husky voice to his side. "Ray?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm here."  
  
"How are you feeling?  
  
Not turning, keeping his back to Ben, he sighed. "Like an idiot."  
  
"There's no need to be embarrassed, Ray."  
  
"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" The words came out snappish and sharp, not at all how Ray wanted to talk. He cleared his throat. "Sorry."  
  
A hand rubbed his shoulder gently and then squeezed. "It's fine. I know you didn't sleep well."  
  
"I slept fine."  
  
"Ray."  
  
"Just cut it out, leave it alone. Jesus, I don't need this shit." Ray sat up and threw the cover off, his feet planted on the floor. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes still squeezed shut against the morning. After several deep breaths, he got his voice under control. "It's not you, it's me. I feel stupid, and when I feel stupid, I act dumb." When he didn't get a response, he turned enough to see Ben watching him, his blue eyes clear, but his features grim. "What?"  
  
"You said you didn't want to talk about it."  
  
"Like that's ever stopped you before."  
  
"Ray, I dont want to argue."

Swallowing back his anger, Ray nodded. "Me, neither." He ran a hand through his hair and stood up. "I gotta use the can."  
  
"As do I, but I don't have my crutches."  
  
"Shit." Ray shook his head, remembering how he'd left them in the other room the night before. "I'm sorry. I'll get 'em and you can go first."  
  
"No, that's fine. You go and then you can get the crutches. My need isn't quite so urgent at the moment." Ben hesitated slightly before he added, "However, I'm afraid Diefenbaker needs to go as well."  
  
"Yeah, well, that's no problem. I'll go real quick and then help you out. Then I'll take furface for a run."  
  
"Certainly." Ben didn't push, but Ray saw the tell-tale signs of the inner struggle, the ear tug, the lick of the lower lip as Ben kept himself from asking more.  
  
"Look, we'll talk, okay? I just don't want to do it right now."  
  
"As you wish." The words came out Mountie formal, a tone Ray didn't need at seven in the fucking morning on a winter's day where it still seemed like night. 

Biting his lower lip and working to keep his temper in check, he headed down the hall to the bathroom. Glancing in the mirror, he groaned. "God, I look like shit."  
  
"Ray?"  
  
"Nothing." Ray cursed the paper-thin walls and Ben's bat ears. "Be done in a minute." He hurried through relieving himself and then washed his hands. After he rinsed his face a few times, he brushed his teeth to lose the nasty film on his tongue.

Ray walked into the living room and found Dief staring at him, the little, I've-got-to-go-now whine near pitiful. "Yeah, I know. I'll take you out in just a minute." The wolf watched him, but didn't make any more protests which Ray appreciated no end. Dealing with Ben made him jumpy enough. A pissy wolf might put him over the edge. 

Back in the bedroom, he handed Ben the crutches. "You want me to help with that?"  
  
"I think I can manage. I feel stronger this morning and the pain is more tolerable."  
  
"That's good."  
  
"Indeed, it is."  
  
As Ben shifted and steadied the crutches so he could stand, Ray stayed close by, ready to help. Luckily, Ben didn't need it. He got up and headed down the hall by himself. 

Ray sighed deeply to himself and sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly even more tired, like he hadn't slept at all. Maybe he hadn't. Dreams of the shooting ambushed him at every turn. Every time he'd drop off, it happened again, over and over, and worse. Ray squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the horrible images of the nightmares. As if the real thing weren't bad enough, his mind gave him more shit to deal with, seeing Fraser legless or dead, seeing Charles Forman coming at them, not stopped by a whole shitload of bullets. God, his head hurt just thinking about it.  
  
Ben came back into the room and settled on the bed beside him, placing the crutches on the floor. Ben put an arm around his shoulders. "You need to talk about it, Ray. It often helps."  
  
"I know that. I know that. I just can't do it now."  
  
"Understood."  
  
Reluctantly, Ray got up. He talked fast, faster than usual as he pulled on his jeans and then reached for his socks and boots. "Stay in bed until I get back. Then I'll help get you cleaned up and dressed. I'll fix you some tea and breakfast." As he pulled on his shirt, he avoided Ben's worried stare. "I'm okay. Honest."  
  
"You're far from okay, Ray. You dont have to say that to make me feel better. I'd rather you told me the truth."  
  
Standing suddenly still, Ray snapped, "You calling me a liar?"  
  
"When it comes to your feelings, yes."

"You don't know what the fuck I'm feeling."  
  
"No, which is why I need you to tell me and not pretend you're fine when it's obvious you're not."  
  
Ray didn't bother to argue, just grabbed his leather jacket off the back of the chair and headed out the door. He motioned for Dief to follow, muttering to himself about stubborn ass Mounties who never knew when to fucking let up.

* * *

The long walk cleared Ray's head a little, the cold air better than sparring when it came to fighting off the sluggishness. Even so, too little sleep and a growing dread kept his insides all hyped up. Back at his place, he let Dief inside and bent to fill the wolf's bowl. He found Ben sitting sideways on the sofa, already in his sweats, his leg elevated on a stack of pillows. 

Irritation came back with a vengeance. "You were supposed to wait until I got back."  
  
"I'm not completely helpless, Ray. I can wash and get dressed on my own."  
  
Ray let it go, didn't want to fight about it. "Okay, fine. Did you take your pills?"  
  
"Yes." The quick answer made him suspicious.  
  
"All of 'em?"  
  
"All I needed."  
  
"Fuck. Here we go. You didn't take the pain pills."  
  
"I did, but I only took one."  
  
"You're supposed to take two."  
  
"Ray"

"Don't Ray me. We talked about this."  
  
"Yes, and I agreed to take them when I needed."  
  
"Fine, whatever." Ray shook his head and threw up his hands. He turned his back and went to the kitchen to make coffee and boil water for tea. Dief padded from Ray to Ben and then back to Ray, unsettled by the discord between them. Ray knew the feeling, wanted to put a fist through the wall to release all the aggravation building up inside his chest. 

After a few minutes, Ray turned and leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed, his head still splitting. "I don't want to fight. You don't want to fight. So why the fuck are we at each other's throats?"  
  
"I would think it has to do with you avoiding certain issues."  
  
"And nothing to do with you being too fucking stubborn for words?"  
  
"You tend to become aggressive when you're upset, using anger to deflect from what you're really feeling. Frankly, I should be used to it by now, but I must confess, I still find it rather disconcerting when it's directed at me."  
  
Torn between wanting to pop Ben or hug him, Ray's head dropped, chin to his chest. "It's not directed at you."  
  
"It feels that way."  
  
"I know it feels that way, but it's not. It's really not." Ray walked into the living room and slumped down in the chair, still achy, reluctant as hell to say what he needed to say. "Look, you want me to talk, I'll talk, but you're not going to like what I've got to say."  
  
"I believe that's for me to decide."  
  
"Yeah, well, just don't think I'm crazy, okay?"  
  
"Unconventional, perhaps, but not crazy."

"You haven't heard the ugly stuff yet."  
  
Ben reached out and took Ray's hand. "Then tell me."  
  
Taking several deep breaths, Ray nodded and then clasped Ben's hand with both his own as he leaned forward. "First, I've got to say I'm sorry for leaving you hanging last night. I sure as hell didn't mean to do that."  
  
"You were upset. I understand completely."  
  
"Yeah, well, it wasn't right. My timing sucked. If I was going to lose it, I could've at least waited until you got off."  
  
Ben squeezed his hand and urged him on. "Tell me what happened."  
  
"I don't know. I mean, I was all fired up and ready and then I saw your leg and, wham, bam, I was back at the scene."  
  
"The scene? You mean, when we were shot?"  
  
"Yeah, it was weird, like I was there, really there. That's never happened before. I saw you go down, and Forman was right there, gunning away. I heard the shots clear as day, smelled the blood and the gunpowder. It was like being there for real. It was creepy as hell."

"I can well imagine."  
  
"But it doesn't make any sense. Why now? Why not back in the hospital or right after it happened?"  
  
"You didn't have a chance to deal with any of this before, Ray. You were too concerned about my welfare to process your own trauma."  
  
Ray snorted and sat back, pulling his hand away as he wrapped his arms around his chest. His stomach ached and his head throbbed as he fought down the urge to just get up and run, to leave, to go box fifteen rounds with the biggest, meanest ring jockey he could find. The more he talked, the more he wanted to throw up. "Trauma? What trauma? I got a flesh wound, no big deal."  
  
"You killed a man, Ray, a man you knew. In addition, you feared that you might lose someone you cared about, someone you believed you failed to protect. The combination of fear and guilt would be enough to cause the serious reaction you describe." 

Ray watched Ben struggle to tell his own story, the tight lines of his face, the thinned lips. "After I was shot in the back, I, too, experienced something similar. Several times in the hospital, I was just doing some of the required exercises when a car backfired or someone dropped a tray. The sounds triggered quite an unexpected response. I actually seemed to relive the whole incident at the train station. As you described, one's sensory images seem very real at the time."  
  
"It happen more than once?"  
  
Ben looked up and met his eyes. "Yes. It wasn't until Ray and I resolved some of our issues that they stopped completely."  
  
"What's that mean, you settled how you were pissed at him shooting you in the back and you got better?"  
  
"Exactly. He was shot saving my life, and, however perversely, I felt rather satisfied at that. He called it being Even Steven. The flashbacks never happened again."  
  
"You think that's what I need to do, forgive you for something to stop this shit from happening?"  
  
"More likely you have to forgive yourself."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For killing Charles Forman and for what you perceive as a failure on your part to protect me."  
  
Ray leaned forward again, balancing himself with elbows on his knees. He scrubbed his face with both hands, the burn of the whiskers against his palms almost a comfort, something real and raw, something he could control. "It's not just perceived failure, Ben, or you wouldn't be sitting here with your leg all shot up."  
  
"But I'm alive, Ray. If it weren't for you, I might not be. You saved my life as well as your own. Why not focus on that aspect of the situation?"  
  
"Like I have a choice about how my brain works. Besides, it's more than that."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I keep dreaming."  
  
Ben prompted. "About?"  
  
"About what happened, only it's not exactly what happened. Forman is like this zombie guy who just keeps coming at me no matter what. I pump him full of lead, but he won't go down, or when he does, he just gets back up again. It's like in one of those horror movies where they can't kill the monster."  
  
"That must be very frightening."  
  
Ray didn't listen, just kept talking, the images from his dreams all swelling up in his head again, the words rushing out. "Or you get shot, riddled with bullets, not just one, but lots of 'em, and you're dying and I can't stop it. Your blood's everywhere, running out on the ground, soaking the dirt. It's snowing and cold and getting a lot colder." Ray's voice choked. "You're holding out your hand, but I can't reach it. I'm too busy trying to breathe, to get Forman to go down, to keep him off both of us. He just won't fucking stop."  
  
Ben shifted and reached out again, massaging Ray's shoulder, keeping his voice soft and calm. "That must be horrible, Ray."  
  
"Yeah, it is, but I know it's just a dream. I just can't seem to get it out of my head. It's like I'm all jittery inside and nothing seems right."  
  
"That's the nature of trauma."  
  
"But you're the one who got shot the worst. You're the one who almost lost his leg."  
  
"True, and I must admit, that I've had a bad dream or two myself."  
  
Ray risked meeting those eyes, hoping to find some truth and comfort there. "Yeah? Like what?"  
  
"Like you're the one who's seriously injured and I can't help you." Ben touched his face lightly, his hand caressing his cheek. "What's happening to you, how you're feeling, it's not unusual after a serious trauma."  
  
"It is for me. I've been shot a lot worse before and nothing like this ever happened."  
  
"Perhaps you feel you've got more to lose now."  
  
Ray swallowed and nodded, that explanation making a hell of a lot of sense. "Yeah, maybe."  
  
They sat there for several long moments, Ben holding his face, Ray holding Ben's hand against his cheek. Ben finally broke the silence with a whisper. "It wasn't your fault, Ray. You did what you had to."  
  
"I killed a man, Ben, a guy I knew, not some career thug off the street, a good kid who was just fucked up, a guy who should've been in the hospital, not shooting my partner. Fuck." Angry at himself for losing control again, Ray got up and paced the room, the emotions all swarming inside him, making his head swim and his stomach tighten. "And the bad part, the really bad part is, that I would've shot him again. I would've shot him a hundred times, a thousand times even, because he shot you."  
  
"You were protecting me."  
  
"I was pissed. I was scared. I wasn't thinking like a cop."  
  
"You're human."  
  
Ray shook his head violently, not wanting to hear any words that let him off the hook. "Don't make excuses. In the end I didn't have a choice, I know that. The firing team knows that. Everybody fucking knows that except his mom. But none of that changes the fact that at the time I wanted him dead, wanted to blast him to hell for shooting you, maybe killing you. I've got to live with that and it's tearing me up inside, because no matter how you or anybody else sugarcoats it, it's not right to be glad somebody's dead."  
  
"Ray, you're not glad Charles Forman is dead."  
  
"I was at the time and that ain't right."  
  
Still on Ray's side, still trying to smooth things over, Ben kept going. "Perhaps not, but it's a human emotion to want to survive. You did what you had to in order to save us both. That feeling of satisfaction at the time was fleeting, I'm sure."

Exhausted, Ray sagged into the chair, his head down. "I just feel bad about it, okay? I want it to stop, but I don't know how." When Ben didn't respond right away, Ray lifted his head and faced the serious gaze. "This is where you're supposed to say something smart, something Mountie-like, so I can get rid of this cannonball in my gut."  
  
"I'm sorry, Ray."

"For?"  
  
"I wish I had something to say that would assuage your anguish, but I don't. However, it has been my experience that time often becomes a callous that eventually dulls some of the pain."  
  
"Time, huh? I figured."  
  
"I hope it helps that I'll do anything I can to make your burden easier. I do love you more than I can say."

Ray finally smiled and took Ben's hand. "Yeah, that helps, and I feel the same even though I don't always act like it. Sometimes I act like a jerk because I feel like a jerk inside. I shouldn't take that out on you."  
  
"No, you shouldn't."  
  
Ray hadn't expected that, that solemn agreement that he had to do better to make this thing work. "You can pop me next time I do something shitty."  
  
"I'm not going to hit you, Ray."  
  
"I meant metawhatsis."  
  
"Metaphorically?"  
  
"Yeah, that's it. You can let me have it with both barrels when I get out of line. I know you can do that. You're good at saying somebody's an asshole without actually saying he's an asshole."  
  
"I am?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, and it's not just the big words. It's the tone, that, I'm a Mountie, and you'd better cut the shit tone you get sometimes when someone's stepping over the line."

Ben tilted his head, amused. "I do that?"  
  
"Oh, yes, you do do that. I love it when you do it to Dewey. Asshole doesn't even realize it sometimes."  
  
"And you want me to do that to you?"  
  
Ray jerked his neck sideways, the crack like a final punctuation. "Only if I need it, but I'm going to try like hell so you won't need to."  
  
"I'd appreciate that, Ray."  
  
"Done." Ray slapped his knees and stood up, suddenly more energized. "Guess I'll fix breakfast. What would you like? Eggs? I got eggs and toast. Or I could do some oatmeal. Or there's some cornflakes around here somewhere, but the milk's bad, so that's probably not a good choice. So, what are you in the mood for?"  
  
"Eggs will be fine, Ray."  
  
"Good, good. Eggs it is. When I go out later, I'll make a list and get you some stuff you like."  
  
Ben smiled. "What I like is right here, Ray."  
  
Shaking his head, Ray grinned as he teased. "Sappy Mountie for breakfast, coming up."

* * *

Finished with breakfast, the dishes done, Ray turned and wiped his hands on the towel. He picked up a pen and paper and walked over to the living room to sit down. "So, I need to go shopping. We need basic stuff like milk and bread. What else? What would you like for lunch and supper?"  
  
"Whatever you like is fine, Ray."  
  
Ray took a deep breath and tried again. "Look. You're living here now, or at least for the next few weeks, maybe longer. I need you to tell me what you want."  
  
"Ray, I really don't care. I'll eat whatever you fix." Ben hesitated and added, "Well, except for hot dogs. Those we can both do without."  
  
"Do not do that, Fraser. Just do not do that whole, whatever you want, Ray, that's fine shit, okay? I want to make sure you've got stuff, too."  
  
Ben sat up a little straighter, a bit miffed. "I take it that when you're upset with me, you're going to call me Fraser?"  
  
"I'll call you Fraser when it fits. When we're at work, when you're being a pain in the ass, and when I feel like it, okay?"  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Cut the ah shit. Now, I mean it. Help me out here. What do you want to eat?" Ray held the pen to the paper and teased. "You don't tell me, it's all aboard for fun time. Hot dogs, ice cream, all the junk food I can carry."

Tugging at his ear, clearly deciding Ray meant every word, Ben changed his mind. "Well, when you put it that way, I'd be remiss not to give you some appropriate input."  
  
"Remiss as hell. Now give. You can have anything you want short of blubber and lichen."  
  
"I suppose pemmican is out of the question?"  
  
"Would you settle for beef jerky? I know it's not the same as that dried up moose stuff you eat, but it's about all we've got down here."  
  
"That would be fine, Ray, but not the artificially flavored kind."  
  
"No problem."  
  
"What else? What do you have a hankering for?"  
  
"A hankering for?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, what do you crave the most that you can get here in the States?"  
  
"Actually, now that you mention it, I would like some oranges."  
  
"Navel or Valencia?"  
  
"Either is fine."  
  
Ray growled. "Pick one."  
  
"Navel."  
  
Ray wrote it down and smiled. "Good. You're learning. What else?"

Joining in the spirit of the game with a little more enthusiasm, Ben smiled. "I wouldn't mind having some walnuts. Not the ones already hulled, but the ones in the shell. I'd enjoy that."

"Walnuts in the shell it is. Next."  
  
"Chamomile tea."  
  
"Loose or in the bag?"  
  
"Loose." Ray scribbled it down, not sure if he spelled it right, but it didn't matter. Ben finally started firing off his list. "Fresh vegetables would be good, too, Ray. Cabbage, potatoes, carrots, some leeks, perhaps?"  
  
"Can do." Nodding, pleased with Ben's progress, Ray prompted. "What else?"  
  
"Fresh fish."  
  
Ray looked up, startled, forcing himself not to say ew. "Fish as in fish?"  
  
"Yes, Ray, fish. Cooked fresh, it's really quite good."  
  
Grumbling to himself, Ray wrote it down. "Okay, okay, fresh fish. Any particular kind you like?"  
  
"I'm partial to salmon, but cod will do. Ask for Ralph in the meat department. He's very good at picking the freshest catch."  
  
"Ralph. Got it."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"If you want salad, we should probably get lettuce, romaine preferably. We should get some luncheon meat in, ham or roast beef, for during the day."  
  
"Sounds good." Ray finished the list and then looked up. "See, that's not so hard. You open your mouth and just say what you want. Doesnt hurt once you get used to it."  
  
"I'm aware that my frequent failure to show a preference for food choices is annoying to you, Ray. I'll do my best to change that and be more decisive in the future."  
  
"Good. I like it when you can ask for what you want, not pussyfoot around. I mean, I know you're picky about work, but when we're off duty, you just sort of go with the flow, do what I want all the time. That's not buddies. We need to go back and forth. You get your way sometimes and I get my way the rest of the time. That's fair, right?" 

"It seems to be, yes. Though I should point out that when I say that it doesn't matter to me what you buy, I really do mean it. However, I do appreciate you trying to make things more equitable between us."  
  
"So, if I came home with a couple of bags of doughnuts and nothing else, that wouldn't matter a hill of beans to ya?"  
  
"I doubt seriously that you'd do that, Ray."  
  
"But I might do that and what would you say? Hey, Ray, I really don't care that I've got nothing to stuff in my face but doughnuts all day? I don't think so. You'd stare at me that way you do and give me a lecture on the food pyramid and four food groups or something. This way, if you complain there's nothing good to eat, it won't be my fault."  
  
"I would never complain about that, Ray."  
  
"Yeah, I know. You never have in the past, but you've never lived here before. It's different now."  
  
Ben's voice softened. "Yes, it is. It's better."  
  
"That's what I want, yeah." Ray stood up with his list. "I'm going down to the corner store, so I shouldn't be gone long. You want Dief to go with me? I could let him walk a little so he won't feel so cooped up."  
  
"That would be fine, Ray. I wish I could walk with you myself."  
  
"You will in a little while. I know two weeks sounds like a long time now, but it'll fly by. Just wait and see. It'll be gone before you know it. Then you'll be doing all those PT exercises and sore as hell, but walking on your own almost as good as new."  
  
Ben shifted on the sofa, his right leg still propped up. "Actually, I look forward to that. I'd much prefer to be doing exercises than just sitting here."  
  
"I know. Just try to take it easy." Ray scratched his head trying to think of something to make it better. "Hey, you want me to get you a book or something? Maybe a newspaper?"  
  
"A paper would be wonderful, Ray. Television news just doesnt have the same coverage as the printed press."  
  
"Good, no problem. I'll pick one up. Anything else?"  
  
"Nothing that I can think of offhand."  
  
"Good. Well, I guess I should be heading out." Ray grabbed his jacket and motioned for Dief. "I'll be back in about 30 minutes. Behave, okay?"  
  
"Certainly, Ray."  
  
Standing very still for a moment, not quite sure whether to do it or not, Ray decided to go for it. He leaned in and kissed Ben on the cheek first and then lightly on the lips. He pulled back to see the surprise and smiled. "Love you."  
  
"And I you, Ray. I wasn't expecting that."  
  
"I can see that."  
  
"But it's nice. Thank you."  
  
"We're together now, right? It's okay to do stuff like this."  
  
"The customary goodbye kiss is, indeed, a welcome addition to our relationship, Ray."

Ray laughed, shook his head, and then kissed that wordy mouth once more for good measure before he headed out to find the best pemmican Chicago had to offer.

* * *

Ray heard the guitar from the hallway and smiled, pleased as all get out that Ben finally decided to play something. He put one of the bags of groceries on the floor outside the door and put his key in the lock. As he opened the door, the music stopped. "Hi, Ray."  
  
"Keep going. My own musical Mountie on the couch. I like it."  
  
Ben sat with his right leg propped up on a kitchen chair pushed in front of the sofa, his other foot on the floor. "Oh, I was just tuning it, not really playing."  
  
"Sounded good to me. Play me something while I put this stuff away."  
  
"Anything in particular?"  
  
"Whatever. I don't care. I just want to hear you play."  
  
Ben nodded, pleased at Ray's interest. He strummed some chords and then a couple of songs as Ray put away the groceries. As soon as Ray folded the paper bags and put them under the sink, he came to sit next to his partner on the sofa. 

"That's pretty. I've heard it before, right?"  
  
"Thank you kindly, and yes, I would think you would've heard it. It's an old English folk song, 'Scarborough Fair'."

"How come you never said you played before?"  
  
Ben glanced up at him and relaxed his hold on the instrument. "Like I said before, Ray, the subject never arose."  
  
"Turnbull knew. He said your grandfather taught you."  
  
Sighing, Ben nodded, his face suddenly sad. "Yes, he did. It was one of the few times when my grandfather seemed to enjoy himself."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"He was a stern man, my grandfather. However, he said that music, however trivial, was a vice he couldn't give up."  
  
"Vice? He thought music was a vice?"  
  
"It doesn't feed a family, cut wood for a fire. It doesn't put clothes on your back, Ray. He was a practical man in all things save his music and his books." Ben stroked the neck of his guitar fondly. "He gave this to me before I left for the service."  
  
"Sort of a going away present?"  
  
"I took it as such, yes. He knew I loved to play."  
  
"And sing?"  
  
"Yes, that, too."  
  
"Yeah, I've heard you sing like a bird before."  
  
Ben smirked and met his teasing gaze. "You never said what kind of bird, Ray."  
  
"Songbird, the kind that sounds pretty. You've got a nice voice, Ben. I can see why Tracy Jenkins wanted you to go on tour."

"I suspect there was more than the appeal of my voice to that offer, Ray."  
  
"Yeah, me, too. She wanted to get into your pumpkin pants in a big way, no doubt about it."  
  
"She was married."  
  
"Didn't stop her from coming on to you, I noticed."  
  
Ben nodded, flushing a light pink at the memory as he tugged his ear. "Well, yes, I did notice the attraction."

"I'll bet. Smart guy knows when to stay off the road for his own good. She would've eaten you alive, worse than Frannie even." Before Ben could argue, Ray sat back, his hands over his belly, relaxed. "Sing me something."  
  
"Any requests?"  
  
"Lots of 'em, but you pick."  
  
Nodding, taking a moment to think, Ben brought the guitar up and played, the first few notes kind of slow. Then the tempo picked up and he sang,

"It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart.

Without saying a word, you can light up the dark.

Try as I may, I could never explain

What I hear when you don't say a thing.

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me.

There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me.

The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall.

You say it best when you say nothing at all.

All day long I can hear people talking out loud,

But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd.

Old Mr. Webster could never define

What's being said between your heart and mine.

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me.

There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me.

The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall.

You say it best when you say nothing at all."

Then Ben played the chorus one more time without singing before he finally looked up. Ray swallowed hard, blinking back the sting those words caused. "You really believe that?"  
  
"Absolutely, Ray. When I first heard the song, I thought of you, of us. I'm honored that you let me sing it to you."  
  
Not trusting his voice, Ray remained quiet, but reached over to take the guitar from Ben's hands. He put the instrument on the coffee table and then hooked the back of Ben's neck, drawing him closer, his lips suddenly meeting an eager mouth. Ben returned the favor, cupping the back of Ray's head as tongues met, explored, slowly at first and then with more hunger, more desire. Ray pulled back, his voice breathy, his body on fire. "You think we could give this run at going to bed another try?"  
  
Ben smiled and, using Ray's hand and shoulder for support, got up. Together they headed to the bedroom, Ben limping, but not really wincing in pain like he had the night before. Once there, Ray helped Ben to sit down. He caught Ben's face between his hands. He kissed him hard again, taking his time, letting their tongues play, shuddering as Ben's hand worked his zipper and pushed his jeans to the floor.  
  
Ray released him and sat down to take off his shoes and then finished undressing, not saying a word. Ben watched him, his blue eyes nearly black with desire. As soon as Ray stood naked before him, Ben gulped and shook his head with awe. He ran a gentle hand over Ray's flat belly and over his hips, avoiding the bandage. "You're as beautiful as I always imagined, Ray." 

"I'm too skinny."  
  
"Not at all. I like your form, the way your muscles are firm and taut just under the skin."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"Warm for my form, huh?" Ben smiled, but didn't pink up. Instead, he licked his lower lip, sending another quick shiver through Ray as he worked to get to the form that really mattered to him. "Lift your arms. I want to see you, too."  
  
Cooperating the best he could from a seated position, Ben soon found himself naked as well, except for the fresh bandage on his leg. Ray swallowed hard when he saw it, his thoughts running back to the night before. Ben took his hand and whispered, "Ray, please, it's all right. I'm fine. You won't hurt me. Help me to get back further on the bed."  
  
Focusing on Ben, Ray did just that, moving his partner's body so that he lay on his back, his head on a pillow. "How do you want to do this? I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"You won't." Pulling Ray down to his left side, Ben caressed his face, his voice husky and soft, so gentle Ray could barely hear him. "Touch me."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Anywhere, everywhere."  
  
Ray's head dipped, kissing Ben again while his hands explored his partner gently at first and then with more vigor. His fingers teased dark nipples, the nubs hardening as Ben's breath got faster, more ragged. Licking up and down Ben's belly won him a soft moan and shudder. Ray smiled as he reached down and explored between Ben's legs. The leaking cock twitched in his hand as he stroked it, the head glistening, Ben pushing into the fist. It took only a few strokes before Ben grunted and jerked, shooting off faster than Ray expected. 

Trembling, one hand on Ray's shoulder, Ben moved his other hand down to cover Ray's. "Good Lord, Ray, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to"

"Shut up, okay?" Ray leaned over and kissed Ben, his tongue lazy, drinking in the woodsy tea flavor. Pulling back, Ray grinned smugly. "Been a while?"  
  
"You have no idea how long I've wanted you to touch me."

"A while?"  
  
"Almost from the first day. I had dreams about you that very first night."  
  
"Dreams? Sex dreams?"  
  
"Yes." Ben reached up and petted Ray's hair.  
  
Ben's cock softened in his hand and Ray sighed as he released him. He rested his head on Ben's chest, his eyes closed, his own dick and balls still heavy between his legs. He swallowed hard before he found his voice. "You dreamed about me, huh?"

"The dream doesn't do the real thing justice."  
  
"You dream about me a lot?"  
  
"It would depend on what you mean by a lot?"  
  
Ray smiled to himself. Typical Benspeak, saying shit like that when he really didn't want to answer. "You dream about me every night?"  
  
"Well, not every night, but several times a week to be sure."  
  
Sighing to himself, Ray took Ben's hand and guided it down between his own legs. "No dream here, just the real thing."  
  
Ben shifted a little to his side, his hand hot and firm on Ray's dick. He whispered, "No, no dream, but perhaps an answer to a prayer."  
  
"Sweet talker." Ray pushed into Ben's closed fist, his cock happy as hell to have a hand other than his own to play with for a change. The fact that it was Ben's hand made him more turned on than ever. 

Air thinned as Ben licked the side of his neck, kissed his throat, all the while holding his cock, letting Ray set the rhythm. Breathing labored, Ray's eyes squeezed shut, his body tingled with Ben's tongue, his touches. Ray's body tensed, the sparks flying up his spine, his head swimming with streamers. Posed breathless, Ray came hard, his whole body one big, mind-swallowing spasm of delicious release. Color flashed behind his eyelids, his head exploding in a good way. With his mouth gaping, he spilled out, his dick one happy camper.  
  
Relaxing, his belly still tight, his balls just a few seconds from serious ache, Ray groaned against Ben's chest. Sweat dripped from Ray's temples, his heart still racing. Strong hands moved over Ray's body, his face, his belly, his ass. A tongue swiped up his cheek and Ray opened his eyes. "Been a while for me, too. Thanks."  
  
Ben pressed his mouth to Ray's, muffling his speech, capturing his thoughts. An eager tongue checked out his tonsils, tasting every slick bit of Ray it could find. Pulling back, Ben whispered, "I love you, Ray."  
  
Tension gone, his body finally unwound, Ray tilted his head slightly on the pillow as he studied Ben's flushed features, his eyes more happy than Ray ever remembered seeing. He caressed the whiskered cheek, thumbing the fuller lower lip with a smile. "Same here, Ben, same here."  
  
Nodding, Ben settled back, letting Ray cuddle in beside him. After a few moments when his breathing returned to normal, Ray asked, "How's the leg?"  
  
"What leg?" Ray snorted with laughter as Ben grinned wider. "Sex releases endorphins, Ray, natural painkillers. It feels perfectly fine."  
  
"Better than a narcotic, huh?"  
  
Ben hugged him tightly, kissing his hair. "I highly recommend it even for the healthy."  
  
Ray sighed, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep, to be held by the man who loved him. As he shifted slightly, he frowned at the stickiness. "I guess I should get something to clean up this mess."  
  
An arm tightened around him. "Not yet, Ray. Stay."  
  
Ray took a big breath, the musky smell of their sex strong, nearly overpowering, but he didn't argue, didn't care if he ever washed again. He enjoyed the heat, the power of the arms making him whole again for the first time in ages.

* * *

Two weeks later, Ray walked into the Consulate, waving a hand at Turnbull. "Hey, Rennie. Got your message."  
  
The younger constable stood up and smiled broadly. "Welcome to Canada, Ray. How's Constable Fraser?"  
  
Ray ran a hand through his hair and smiled, thankful he had good news for a change. "Just got back from the doctor's office. Looks good. He starts PT tomorrow, every day for a week and then they'll see how much he needs after that. If things go like we plan, he might be back to desk duty in a couple of weeks and full duty a couple more after that."  
  
"That's wonderful news, Ray."  
  
Nodding to himself, Ray had to agree. "Yeah, yeah, it is. Of course, I might have to get you to come over and help me tie his ass down between now and then."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Amused by the embarrassed expression, Ray shook his head. "You know, Fraser. He's got this little walking stick now and he's not afraid to use it."  
  
Understanding dawned and Turnbull frowned. "I see. Perhaps if we both stress how important it is to his recovery not to overdo, then he'll be more apt to be less excessive in his exertions."  
  
"You believe that?"  
  
"Well, no, but it was worth mentioning." Turnbull smiled in sympathy. "I'm sure you've had your hands full the last few weeks, Ray. It's been my experience that Constable Fraser doesnt do well with forced convalescence."

Ray grinned, thinking that Turnbull had no fucking idea how much of a handful Ben could be. After Ben got the whole premature getting off thing under control, stamina was not a problem for the Mountie, not even after taking a bullet. Ray's smile faded at the raw memory of the shooting and he rubbed his forehead. "Look, you called me about the boots. Are they ready?"  
  
"Oh yes, the boots." Turnbull held up a finger with excitement. "I've got the note right here." He shuffled some papers and pulled out a sheet. "I just got a call from Mr. Merriweather. He's finished and said you can pick them up this afternoon. He seemed very pleased."  
  
Ray took the paper and checked out the address, which was only a few blocks north of the Consulate. "And this guy's good, right?"  
  
"Oh, my, yes. He's done all the repair work for Constable Fraser in the past and I, myself, have had him make several fine pieces." Turnbull leaned in, lowering his voice. "He's very discreet, too, should you ever want any custom-made leather goods in the future."

Ray's head came up, trying to dodge the image of Turnbull in chaps or some other wild get up he so didn't want to think about. Holding up the address, he motioned good bye. "Thanks for your help, Rennie. I'll pick these up and surprise him tonight, sort of celebrate the good news from the doc." Turnbull squirmed a little and cleared his throat and Ray got suspicious. "Shit. Don't tell me you told him. I told you not to tell him. It's supposed to be a surprise."  
  
"No, I didn't tell him, at least not directly. However, you know Constable Fraser has remarkable deductive abilities. He called here last week to tell me that he might be ordering a new pair. I tried to dissuade him and"  
  
"And he figured out that I'd already ordered him a pair, right?"  
  
"He didn't say so in so many words, no, but I think he suspects. I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to say anything, but if he ordered a pair on his own initiative, then"

Ray held up a hand to silence the apology. "It's okay. We were up against Fraser. Keeping a secret from him ain't easy."  
  
"No, it's certainly not. Though I wish you could've succeeded in surprising him."  
  
Pursing his lips, eyes narrowed slightly, Ray nodded. "You never know. I might still manage something. Don't worry about it."  
  
Turnbull studied him a moment and then relaxed with relief. "I'm glad you're not angry."  
  
"No, no way. You've been a big help. Thanks."

"If it's any consolation, I do think he's going to very pleased with your efforts."

"Yeah?"

"Indeed."

"Hope so." As he turned to leave, he found Turnbull's hand on his shoulder. "Ray?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Will Constable Fraser really be staying at your apartment from now on?" Before Ray could answer, Turnbull hurriedly added, "The reason I ask is that Inspector Thatcher has been inquiring. I'm not sure how she's going to react if it's a permanent relocation and she wasn't notified."  
  
Suddenly angry, Ray snapped. "It's none of her business where he lives."  
  
"Oh, I agree completely. I just thought I should warn you that she's been asking."  
  
"Thanks. I'll tell Fraser." Ray paused and then smiled again. "And yeah, I think it's a permanent move, or at least for as long as he can put up with me."  
  
Turnbull's face beamed. "I'm so glad to hear it, Ray, and if you don't mind my saying so, I doubt seriously that Constable Fraser will have any complaints about the arrangement. The times I've spoken to him over the last few weeks, well, he's seemed quite happy."

Ray's expression softened. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yes. Understand that I'm not an expert in these matters, but it seems clear to me that he's really quite fond of you."  
  
"Yeah, well, I kind of like him, too."  
  
Turnbull patted his shoulder. "Oh, that goes without saying, Ray."  
  
"Just keep this under your Stetson, okay? No need to go blabbing it all over. We're not hiding it, but we're not flying any rainbow flags, either, you know?"  
  
"Understood." Turnbull thumbed the side of his nose with a grin. "Mum's the word and congratulations."

"Thanks." Ray headed out the doors and down the stairs. He grinned to himself as he thought about a way he could pull one over on a snoopy ass Mountie.

* * *

Holding two boxes, one much bigger than the other, Ray approached his door. He heard voices and his happy mood faded. Guess he had to face the music sometime. Once inside, he nodded at Welsh. "Hey, Lieutenant."

"Kowalski."  
  
Fraser sat on the sofa, his face serious, while Dief lay curled up in the kitchen under the table snoozing away. "Hi, Ray. The Lieutenant just stopped by to check on my progress."  
  
Ray snorted to himself, knowing full well that wasn't the only reason the Lieutenant had dragged himself out of his office. "You tell him what the doctor said?"  
  
"Indeed, I did, Ray." Fraser glanced at the boxes Ray put on kitchen counter but didn't say anything. He turned his attention back to Welsh. "Lieutenant, please stay and have coffee."  
  
"No, thanks. I have to get back."  
  
Ray sighed in relief, thinking maybe he'd been wrong, maybe this was just a get well visit. "Thanks for coming by. Appreciate it."

"No problem." Welsh paused before he asked, "So when do you plan to come back to work, Detective?"  
  
"Probably after another week. I need to take Fraser to his PT."  
  
"Ray, I could go to those sessions on my own."  
  
"Yeah, you could, but you're not. They'll wipe you out and I don't want you overdoing it. I know how you are. I want to be there."  
  
"Ray"

"Fraser, we talked about this. I'm going."

Fraser crossed his arms and looked pointedly at Welsh as if to say, see what I have to put up with. Ray turned his attention back to his Lieutenant. "Look, I could come in half days if you need me, but it's up to you."  
  
Welsh nodded and stood up, reaching for his coat draped over the back of the chair. "No, you've got the days. Use 'em." Once he had his coat on, his hands stuffed into his pockets, Welsh met Ray's anxious gaze. "I got a call. You didn't make the appointments."  
  
Busted. Fuck. 

Ray looked away, clenching his jaw, hating the whole subject. He crossed his arms around his chest, his hands tucked up under his armpits, his shoulders hunched forward. "I'm doing okay now, better than okay. I don't need to see anybody."  
  
Welsh shook his head. "Not an option."  
  
"It could be. You could write a letter, make a call, or do something."  
  
"It's standard procedure. You do at least three sessions. No discussion. Now, you either set up the appointments while you're off or I'll set them up for you when you get back. You're not leaving the desk until you're cleared."  
  
"It's a stupid rule."  
  
"Maybe, but it's there for a reason, Ray."  
  
The sympathetic tone and the use of his first name surprised him. Ray raised his head, the resistance drained away. "Sure, okay. I'll make the appointments. It's still a stupid rule though."

Welsh stepped closer and put a hand on Ray's shoulder, squeezing with assurance before releasing it. "You look good, Kowalski. A lot better than you did. You'll do fine. Just take care of it. I need my best detective back on the streets, the sooner the better."  
  
Ray choked up at the rare compliment. Before he could say anything, Welsh turned to Fraser. "And you, Constable, see that he follows through. He's got the number."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good. Now, I've got a cop shop to run. Let me get out of here and get back to work."  
  
Ray walked him to the door, his voice still tight. "Yeah, thanks for coming by, sir."  
  
"It was either this or listen to Dewey crack wise one more time. It wasn't a hard decision."  
  
"Yeah, sometimes I think that guy was dropped on his head as a kid or something. Good detective though."  
  
Welsh nodded, the understanding clear between them. "Call me when you're ready to come back."  
  
"Sure thing."  
  
As soon as Welsh left, Ray shut and locked the door. He turned to see Ben studying him closely. "What?"  
  
"You told me you were going to make those appointments."  
  
"I meant to."  
  
"Ray"

Holding up a hand, Ray shook his head. "I know. I know. I'll do it first thing in the morning, okay?"  
  
"Very well, but you could do it right now. It's better to deal with this aversion head on rather than delay it."

Ray settled on the sofa beside him, suddenly tired. "Tomorrow. Now, drop it."  
  
Ben shifted a little sideways to look at him more clearly. "Tomorrow it is, then. If you don't call, I'll call for you. That seems only fair considering your obstinate stance about your accompanying me to my physical therapy. If you make the appointments, then I'll refrain from making any further objections."  
  
Snorting out loud, Ray shook his head, more amused than pissed. "That sounds like blackmail."  
  
"It's certainly not extortion to maintain a solid position, Ray."  
  
"Blackmail's blackmail no matter how you spiff it up."  
  
"Spiff it up?"  
  
"Dress it up, call it a different name, make it sound better than it is."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Yeah, ah all you want to. I'm a cop. I know blackmail when I hear it." After a few moments, Ray glanced over to meet worried blue eyes. He reached down and took Ben's hand. "I'll call. I promise."  
  
"Thank you, Ray. That abates my fears somewhat."  
  
"Worrywart."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"No perhaps. You worry too much."  
  
Ben squeezed his hand and shrugged. "It's a part of my nature I don't seem to be able to do anything about, Ray."  
  
Hesitating slightly, Ray confessed, "It's okay. It's sort of nice to have somebody care a hill of beans about you after going so long where nothing much mattered." Ray dropped his head to Ben's shoulder, his voice more quiet. "I know it's stupid, but I kind of like that you worry."

"It's not stupid, Ray. I like that you worry about me, too."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yes. I think that just comes with the territory of being in a relationship. One can't help but feel a bit anxious sometimes."  
  
"Like when somebody gets shot?"  
  
"Or someone has to do the shooting."  
  
"Yeah, I guess."  
  
Ben petted Ray's hair, his fingers lazily combing the spikes. Ray loved how he did that now, touched him, played with his hair, hugged him sometimes just out of nowhere. It felt right, it felt good, it felt like how Ray wanted to live the rest of his life. 

Ray hated to break the spell, but he needed to tell Ben about Thatcher before he forgot. "Turnbull says the Ice Queen's being nosy, wants to know if you're going to move in here for good."  
  
"I'll make a call first thing tomorrow and notify her of my plans."  
  
Ray hesitated, his throat dry. "Which are?"  
  
Kissing the top of Ray's head, Ben whispered, "I'm staying as long as you'll have me."  
  
Ray sat up and smiled, relieved to know Ben wanted this as much as he did. "As long as you want, Ben. Forever works."  
  
"For me as well. I'll make it official first thing tomorrow."

"Great, real greatness."

"I thought you'd be pleased."  
  
"Oh, yeah, pleased doesn't even cover it, not even close. I was afraid you might back out or something, might think it wasn't a good idea."  
  
"Why would you think that? We've gotten along very well despite rather dire predictions that we might not get along during an extended period of close proximity."  
  
"That your fancy way of saying we haven't killed each other yet even though everybody thought we would?"  
  
"Something like that, yes." Ben caressed Ray's cheek. "And I must confess, that I find being with you, sleeping with you as it were, quite therapeutic."  
  
"Therapeutic? Like I'm good for what ails you, huh?"

"More than good, Ray. You enrich my life. I'd like to believe, that is to say, I'm hoping, that you feel the same way."

"You better believe it." Ray leaned in, kissing Ben, moaning deep in his throat. Reluctantly, he pulled back, his voice husky. "Hey, I got you something."

"Oh, really?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, act surprised, like you don't know." Ben did his best to look confused and innocent, but it didn't fool Ray. "Turnbull told me you called and figured it out."  
  
Flushing slightly, Ben smiled with a small apologetic shrug. "I didn't mean to, Ray."  
  
Patting Ben's leg good-naturedly, Ray stood up. "Doesn't matter." He stepped over to the kitchen and brought the larger box back to the sofa. "Here, check these out. They're not broken in or anything, but that guy Merriweather said he took a little extra time to soften the leather, make them as close to your old ones as he could get." Ray took the boots out of the box and handed them to Ben with pride. "What do you think? The guy did a great job. These look like your old pair or what?"

Ben took the boots, his hand touching the leather with reverence. Ray frowned as his speechless partner's eyes misted over. "What's wrong?"  
  
Swallowing hard, Ben bit his lower lip as he held the boots to his chest like found treasure. "Nothing's wrong, Ray. Thank you. They're wonderful."  
  
Relieved, Ray sat down. "Scared me for a minute. I thought I'd fucked up."  
  
"On the contrary. I'm deeply moved by your generosity and thoughtfulness."

Ray gently touched Ben's wet cheek and smiled lovingly. "Yeah, I can see that. You really have a thing for boots, huh?"  
  
"I have a thing for you, Ray. My only regret is that I've got nothing to give you in return."

"Shut up with that."  
  
"No, I'm serious."  
  
"Me, too. You're here. That's plenty. I mean, I know I ain't the easiest person to be around sometimes. I'm moody as hell and more bossy than not when I can get away with it." Ray paused and then teased, "Though, I have to say, you give me a pretty good run for the money in the bossy department sometimes."  
  
"I'll try very hard to curtail that in the future, Ray."  
  
"Doesn't matter. I don't mind, not usually."  
  
Ben held the boots like a new baby and smiled, changing the subject. "What's in the other box, Ray?"  
  
"A real Nosey Parker, aren't ya?"  
  
"So I've been told."  
  
"Actually, it's another present."  
  
"Oh, really?" 

"Really. Seems this Merriweather guy makes stuff besides shoes. He's got this whole shop of nothing but leather."  
  
Ben's eyes sparkled in anticipation. "Yes, I know. I've seen it. It's got some rather," Ben cleared his throat, "interesting items."  
  
"It sure does. Downright kinky. But as you know, I don't do kinky, well, not unless you count sleeping with a Mountie."  
  
"I hardly think having intimate relations with a Mountie is considered deviant behavior, Ray."  
  
"It would be if I made you wear the uniform while we did it."  
  
Ben sat up straight, his eyes crinkled at the edges from the grin. "Yes, I could see that might be considered a bit out of the ordinary. However, I've been told that the appeal of the red serge can be quite overpowering for some individuals."  
  
"Yeah, I can see that. Uniforms can be a real turn on. You wouldn't believe the offers I used to get when I was walking a beat in the beginning. I'll bet it's even worse up there in the Northwest Areas."  
  
"You know perfectly well it's Territories, Ray."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I do know, now, back to the prezzie. You want to know what I got or not?"

Ben put the boots on the coffee table and sat back, his expression filled with anticipation. "Indeed, I do."  
  
Fetching the smaller box, Ray came back to the sofa. He sat down, holding it between both hands, no longer sure about his purchase. No way did he want Ben to think he was some kind of real freak, but he really wanted to do this, wanted to share one of his fantasies with the man of his dreams. He cleared his throat, but he didn't look at Ben, not right away. "They're for you, but they're really kind of for me, too."  
  
"They, Ray?"  
  
"Here." Ray gave Ben the box and waited, watching his partner carefully for any signs of disgust.

Ben pulled out the pair of black leather gloves. "They're very nice, Ray, very well made. Thank you."  
  
"But you've got a pair already, I know. This isn't about that."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About wearing gloves to keep your hands warm. They're for something else."  
  
Puzzled, Ben's eyes narrowed as he met Ray's hesitant gaze. "I don't understand."  
  
Swallowing hard, Ray took a shot, making sure he chose his words carefully. He didn't want to blow this. "You've got great hands, Ben, great hands. They're strong and your fingers are thick, just like I like."  
  
"Thank you, Ray. I like your hands as well. But I fail to see"

Ray interrupted, needing to press on before he lost his nerve. "When I saw you put on your gloves the first time, I, well, I got turned on, I mean, really turned on. You stretched the leather tight over your knuckles. I remember you pulling them even tighter and thinking about how that would feel."  
  
"How what would feel?"  
  
"Youyou touching me with those gloved hands."  
  
Ben's eyes widened slightly and he dragged his tongue over his lower lip. Before he could speak, Ray stood up, his body tense and ready to take off. "I'm sorry, Ben, I'm sorry. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have said anything. This is stupid, really dumb."  
  
Reaching out, Ben grabbed Ray's wrist before he could walk away. "Sit down, Ray. It's not stupid at all. I'm flattered that you feel comfortable enough to tell me something so intimate and private. It's very brave."  
  
"You're not grossed out?"  
  
"Why should I be? You get a sexual thrill at seeing me put on leather gloves. There's nothing inordinately strange in that. I suppose it's no more strange than the arousal I experience when I watch you dance when you don't know I'm watching."  
  
It was Ray's turn to blush. "You watch me dance?"  
  
"At night when you think I'm sleeping, you turn the music on very low. But I can see you from the bedroom. It's very erotic."  
  
Ray settled down next to Ben, still a little embarrassed. "But a lot of people get turned on by watching people dance, which, by the way, I'm really flattered that you think that about me."  
  
"You're very graceful, Ray. One day I hope you'll feel comfortable enough to dance for me when you know I'm watching."  
  
"Yeah, well, maybe that can be arranged." Ray smiled, more relaxed. "So, you don't think me wanting you to wear gloves sometimes makes me a freak?"  
  
Ben held up the gloves and pulled one on as he spoke quietly. "I like touching you, Ray, no gloves, nothing between us, but if you like the touch of my hand in leather on occasion, I don't have a problem with that."

Throat suddenly dry, Ray watched with fascination as Ben put the other glove on, taking his time with each finger, making sure Ray got a good show. Just the smell of the new leather gave him a head rush. Then Ben took Ray's hand in his own gloved one, his eyes gleaming. "Let's go to the bedroom, Ray. I'd like very much to show my appreciation for your thoughtfulness."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Oh, yes."

They both stood up slowly, Ben leaving his cane behind, depending on Ray to get him to the bedroom. Once there, Ben sat down on the side of the bed, his eyes trained on Ray. "Take off your clothes, Ray. Slowly."  
  
Ben's command voice went straight to Ray's cock, turned him on big time, made him hard and his balls achy. Hands trembling slightly, he slipped off his sweatshirt and then sat down to take off his socks and boots. Then, taking his time, he unzipped his jeans and slid them down and off. Swallowing hard, he slipped his thumbs in his waist band and removed his briefs, his erection bobbing free. The whole time Ben watched with appreciation, his eyes never looking away.  
  
"What about you? You want me to help get you undressed?"  
  
"No. I want you to lie down on the bed, legs spread, hands together behind your head."  
  
Gulping back his surprise, Ray followed orders, doing just like Ben wanted. Lying on his back, knees up, legs apart, Ray lay there vulnerable, exposed. Goosebumps covered his flesh as he waited in the quiet as Ben studied him. 

After a few moments, Ben stood up carefully. He took off his own clothes, watching how his nudity affected Ray. Sweat beaded Ray's forehead and his dick leaked as he took in the sight of Ben getting naked just for him. "You're really beautiful, Ben."  
  
Ben didn't answer, just looked at him, his eyes dark with desire, his face flushed with want. He moved to the right side of the bed so that his left side was next to Ray. Wearing only the gloves, he ran his hand down Ray's chest, along his belly. Ray shuddered at the touch and closed his eyes, floating in the heat, the delicious sensations, the strong smell of leather.  
  
"Open your eyes, Ray."  
  
"Ben"  
  
"Open your eyes. I want you to look at me." With more force, Ben whispered, "I **need** you to look at me."  
  
Ray met intense blue eyes, eyes he could get lost in. "Sure, sure, I can do that."  
  
"Good." Ben leaned over, his mouth capturing Ray's, his tongue possessive and exploring before pulling away. Eyes still meeting Ray's gaze, both of Ben's hands slid along Ray's body, nipples, belly, the underside of his arms, his inner thighs. Ray moaned, his throat tight and dry, his cock twitchy. "Jesus, Ben, touch me."  
  
"I am touching you, Ray." 

Ray squirmed, shoving his hips higher. "I want you to **touch** me, Ben."  
  
"Ah, touch you as in touch you."  
  
"God." Ray groaned deep in his throat as Ben wrapped the leather-clad hand around his dick. It took concentration to keep his eyes open, to keep his eyes on Ben when all he wanted to do was drown in the sensations building up in his body. Dizzy from spreading pressure winding up his spine, Ray complained. "I'm going to come if you keep this up."  
  
"I believe that's the point, Ray."  
  
"But I want you to do me."  
  
His hand continued to slowly stroke Ray's dick as Ben shook his head. "My leg is better and I can bend the knee. I don't, however, think I can manage that particular act just yet."  
  
Ray reached down and stilled the gloved hand. "You can if we do it on our sides."  
  
"On our sides?"  
  
"Yeah, me on my side in front, you behind. It won't put that much pressure on your leg if you're on your left side. You can do me. It'll be great."  
  
Ben cocked his head, obviously not sure. "You've done this before?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"Then how do you"

"I saw it in a book. Look, Ben, you can do this. We can do this." Ray reached up and cupped Ben's face as he stretched out along the length of the bed. "I've been thinking about this for a while. I know you're still hurt, but we can be careful. I really want to try."  
  
Nodding, Ben dipped down and kissed Ray, his lips soft, but shadowed by whiskers. "Yes, we can try, but I'm not sure this is the right time. We don't have anything to use."  
  
Ray blinked and confessed, "Well, actually, I kind of bought some stuff just in case."  
  
"Stuff?"  
  
"Yeah, you know stuff, slick stuff."  
  
"And condoms?"  
  
Ray shook his head. "No, I didn't buy rubbers. Im clean, you're clean. We don't need those."  
  
"But, Ray,"  
  
"What? You don't want to?"  
  
"Of course, I **want** to. I've wanted to from the beginning, but I don't want to put either of us at risk."  
  
"What's to risk?"

"Ray, there are other diseases besides HIV that can be transmitted through sexual contact. Hepatitis for one, bacterial infections which lead to urinary tract infections for another."  
  
"You don't want to. I get it."  
  
"Ray, it's not that. I do **want** to. I just want us to be safe."  
  
Disappointed, but still hard, Ray nodded. "Okay, okay, I get it, we'll hold off on doing it until later, but I need something, something now."  
  
"Something?"  
  
"If not your cock, then **something**." Ray pumped his dick into Ben's hand and shuddered, his ass throbbing and empty. "Your finger, **something**."  
  
Comprehension dawned and Ben smiled. "As you wish."  
  
"As I wish? I swear to God, you're driving me crazy."

"Where's the lubricant?"

"In the bedside table. Jesus, Ben, hurry."  
  
Ben retrieved the KY and then shifted down on the bed, ignoring Ray's string of muttered complaints. He forced Ray's knees back up, and moved to sit between them, his own legs spread on both sides of Ray's body. He kissed the inside of Ray's thigh and Ray grabbed the sheets, shoving his hips higher. Ben quickly slicked up his gloved fingers. Using one hand to stroke Ray's cock, he used the other to tease the tight opening. Ray hissed and shoved his ass toward Ben's hand. Without hesitation, Ben pushed inside, first one finger and then two. Slowly at first and then faster, Ben set up a rhythm, finger fucking Ray's ass and stroking his cock. 

Mouth open, Ray watched Ben work his ass and dick with loving determination. Breathing ragged, Ray wanted to scream, wanted to beg for more, but couldn't muster enough air. Tension built up through his middle, through his legs, his arms, all through his head. Then everything broke loose at once, bright lights flashing, heat like a firestorm sizzling his skin, his body jerking and his cock squirting hard all over Ben's hand. Heart pounding like thunder, he shuddered and called out his lover's name over and over like some kind of chant.  
  
Ben answered with kisses to his knees, along his belly, and then his neck as he stretched out over Ray, pressing him down. Ben's weight made it all the more real, made for the one thing Ray wanted most in the world, something heavy and right to anchor him to all the love he could handle. "Ray, Ray, Ray, I love you so much." Ben's mouth covered Ray's, his tongue devouring Ray's chance to keep saying Ben.  
  
Pulling back, Ben studied him and then kissed his nose. "You enjoyed that."  
  
"Oh, yeah, you bet. Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome." 

Ben's leaking erection poked Ray's belly. "Give me a minute and I'll take care of you."  
  
Ben lifted his head and then slid down just enough to thrust his hips against Ray's crotch. Ray groaned and then smiled. "Go for it. Feels good."  
  
"Oh, yes, it feels wonderful." With no more words, Ben pushed against Ray, setting up a rhythm, rotating and grinding his hips. Sweat dripped down the side of Ben's face and Ray watched with fascination and delight as Ben worked at his own completion. Reaching up and around, Ray grabbed Ben's ass and pulled it toward him hard several times. Ben jerked suddenly, dropping his head onto Ray's chest as his body convulsed with coming.  
  
After a few moments, Ben lifted his head, his eyes still not quite focused and his breathing still too fast. "That was, well, that is to say, good Lord."  
  
"Yeah, good Lord it is."  
  
Closing his eyes, Ben rested his head on Ray's chest and whispered, "Am I too heavy?"  
  
Ray wrapped his arms around Ben and hugged him. "You feel good, just right."

Chuckling, Ben rubbed his whiskered chin across Ray's slick, sweaty skin. "I fear I've ruined the gloves, Ray."  
  
"Fuck the gloves. I'll buy you a new pair. Hell, I'll buy you a dozen pairs and then some. Maybe that Merriweather guy will give me a discount for buying in bulk."  
  
"Indeed, I think that's a wonderful idea."  
  
Ray laughed out loud and met playful blue eyes, eyes just a few inches from his own. "You do, huh?"  
  
"Oh, yes, and I think, should you go shopping, the drug store should be on your itinerary."

"Oh, yeah?" Ray's whisper got more husky. "You want to do me next time?"  
  
"It seems rather inevitable."  
  
Tilting his head on the pillow, Ray smirked. "And what if I want to do you instead?"  
  
"Well, Ray, I think it goes without saying that such an activity is also an inevitable and desirable evolution of this relationship."  
  
"It is?"  
  
Ben frowned and then shifted to lay to Ray's side. He reached down and pulled up a blanket from the end of the bed to cover them both. "Well, yes, Ray. Why would you think I wouldn't want that?"  
  
Ray turned on his side to face Ben, his hand resting over his lover's heart. "I don't know. I just figured you'd want to be the pitcher."  
  
"Pitcher?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, the driver, the one who does the fucking, the opposite of the catcher."  
  
Ben's lips curled up into an amused smile. "You thought I wouldn't want to be the receiving partner?"  
  
"Well, yeah. I mean, you're the Mountie, and let's face it, between the two of us, you pretty much tend to be the one in charge. I mean, I'm not complaining. It works, but I'm just saying that I never expected you to be open to that."  
  
Ben slipped off the gloves and put them on the table, taking his time before he finally spoke. "Ray, I love you."  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
"And because I love you, I want to experience all the possible levels of intimacy we can attain. It wouldn't be fair to either of us for me to only pitch, as it were, when I also enjoy catching."  
  
"Yeah? You like catching?"  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"Cool." Ray relaxed and rested his head on Ben's shoulder. He fought down the jealous urge to find out who all the other pitchers were in Ben's life. He pushed that nasty thought away and buried it deep, because he didn't need to know that, didn't want to know that. All he needed was knowing that from now on, Ben was his one and only, pitcher or catcher, none of that mattered. "This is good, this is greatness. I like that we talk about stuff like this."  
  
"Communication is essential in a healthy relationship, Ray."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's just, well, you know."

"Know what?"  
  
Guiltily, Ray shook his head. "I don't want to talk about her right now."  
  
"I see."  
  
"It's just we didn't discuss stuff, important stuff like this. We just sort of did it. Sometimes it worked, sometimes I ended up in the doghouse."  
  
"Doghouse?"  
  
"Yeah, in trouble, sleeping on the couch. I just wanted things she couldn't give and sometimes she wanted stuff that I couldn't do or that I messed up. I guess that's why we ended up in splitsville."  
  
"Quite likely."  
  
Ray closed his eyes, suddenly more tense. "I don't want that to happen to us, Ben. Promise me we'll talk about stuff we need to talk about. I know that's not always easy for you."  
  
"Or you."  
  
"Yeah, or me. But we have to try."  
  
"I certainly promise to try, Ray."  
  
"Good, all right then. It's settled. We talk about shit before it gets out of hand. We'll be fine, we'll be great."  
  
Ben leaned over and kissed him gently before whispering, "We are great, Ray, greatness as it were."  
  
Ray didn't argue, just closed his eyes and drifted, knowing the man fingering his hair would always stay true, always be there when he needed him. Love, trust, devotion, he had those with Ben and just as importantly, Ray knew that Ben had those same things with Ray. A duet, a partnership, an eternal bond, call it whatever, Ray had it all in the arms of his Ben and that made it magic, that made it true greatness. Oh, yeah, he could go with that and so could Ben, go with it together.

* * *

The end


End file.
